


Eye for An Eye

by Cosploya



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, And now he's Raphael again, Apocalypse, Blood, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Demon!Aziraphale, Flashbacks, Future Fic, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Knives, M/M, Miracles are like Magic, Revelations, Revenge, Revenge Omens, The Bentley Is Back, Vaguely beta'd, angel!Crowley, getting back? together??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2020-10-29 15:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosploya/pseuds/Cosploya
Summary: After the events of a Failed Armageddon Attempt, Heaven and Hell finally figured out how to properly punish the traitors, instead of leaving them alone.Twenty-five years later, when Angels start disappearing, a Newly Risen Raphael has come to Earth, sent to investigate these obviously Demonic happenings on Earth's surface. After setting up shop in a familiar location and locating the source of said happenings, a new (yet familiar) Demon called Azier, he is thrown once again into a race against Heaven, Hell, and his own heart.





	1. 1 - All God's People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raphael - An Angel who somehow found the Stairway BACK to Heaven  
Gabriel - An Archangel  
Michael - An Archangel  
Uriel - An Archangel  
Sandolphon - An Archangel  
Metatron - Voice of God (Also An Archangel)  
God - God  
Aziraphale - A Destroyed Angel  
Crowley - A Destroyed Demon

** Twenty Years after Armageddon Part 1 **

**As it would happen,** second chances are hard to come by. Especially when you’re still facing the repercussions of the many mistakes you made over seven thousand years ago, on top of the huge mistake you made about twenty years ago.

The Angel Raphael would know this fact all too well. As he is reminded of his mistakes every day. With the watchful eyes of the archangels over him at every second, with every move he makes being judged and evaluated.

And it sucks.

Being the first angel to be Risen back to Grace after falling, he would understand that suspicions were high with every move he made around Heaven. With every action he took, someone was there to question him.

But he had been given this second chance, and he would be damned (again) if he didn’t work tirelessly every day to his task.

Following the rules had never particularly been his thing either, always feeling the rebellious kick to do something his own way, to move on and not let anyone else stand in his way once his mind was made up. But he had to keep going, he had worked this hard for this long. He had hoped and wished for his chance to be fully returned to his original status, back before he Fell, back before Earth was finished and he was merely a serpent on the ground of Eden.

Back before he met Him.

He shakes these thoughts from his head, looking over the globe in front of him again. Now more than ever was Heaven able to keep up with demonic activity on the grounds of Her creation. Now they had an ace up their sleeve. A former Demon who could still detect demonic energy.

With their Earthly Guardian missing for almost ninety years, it was simpler to send down a small squadron each time Hell peaked its ugly head through the ground and return home when it was over.

This was how the balance was kept these days.

Ever since the Demon Crowley and Principality Aziraphale ceased to exist.

-

**“He’s** doing better than I expected.” The Archangel Michael spoke one day, watching the risen angel at his post once again. “I almost expected him to double-cross us by now and we’d send him tumbling back down into the pit.”

“I thought the same thing,” Gabriel said to the side, giving a little shrug. “But without Aziraphale around to distract him, he’s quite the resource.”

“He’s vengeful.” Sandalphon almost grinned with his own smug comment.

“That could be useful to us,” Uriel stated, looking over towards the other three where they stood.

They were out of earshot of Raphael, but he knew they were watching all the same. They knew he knew. So, they continued.

“Perhaps one day he will become one of us again.” Uriel continued.

“If the Lord be willing.” Gabriel nodded. “It’s in Her hands what happens with him. Since she decided that he should return to us. I believe we did get the better end of this trade.”

“But we haven’t had news of the other one.” Michael told them. “He could be dead by this point. If he’s not, he probably wishes he was.”

“To Fall so many millennia after, must have been painful,” Sandalphon noted.

“He was a sad excuse for an Angel anyway. Much less a Principality. Thinking we wouldn’t figure out their little game. Playing us all for fools.” Uriel deadpanned, turning to walk away from where the four were standing, the other three eventually following suit. “Who’s the fool now, Aziraphale?”

-

**Raphael** glanced over his shoulder as the Archangels made their walk away from where they had been watching him, letting out a sigh and brushing copper curls from his face. The Earth had been quiet for some time now. The last demonic presence had been defeated over three Earth months ago. Which just left him watching and waiting since then.

There was no doubt they were in for something new, so he was stuck watching and waiting to report in. All he could do was hope one day he would be allowed to return to the planet eventually. It was all he wanted now. To learn what had happened to his home, to everyone he left behind, and even his car. His poor Bentley was probably a pile of rust rotting away in a junkyard now.

The thought made the Angel shiver.

More importantly, he wondered what had happened to Aziraphale.

The Principality had supposedly vanished not long after his Grace was restored, and he was assigned to Heaven once more. A report from one squadron had said that Hell had captured him, another saying that he had been killed by Demons after Crowley was no longer around to protect him.

The one that broke his heart more, was the rumor that he had Fallen, so that his own form could Rise again.

But these were all rumors and reports that he had heard from the mouths of others, and Raphael knew better than anyone not to ask questions.

Especially ones you really don’t want the answer to.

But one remained hanging in his mind, one he could barely whisper.

“Where did you go, my dove?”

-

**This** story, like many of the Angels’ best stories, begins in a garden.

Though this one is much smaller, in the middle of London, and it is on top of a roof. There is no eastern gate to be guarded, but this garden is protected and cared for by the very same Angel that was assigned to Eden.

On the day of the inciting incident, the Angel Aziraphale was on the roof of his pride and joy, his own bookshop, which had been very recently turned into its very own rooftop garden. It had become lush and green in the recent months as summer was in full swing.

“You see, Crowley?” He had said, motioning to the blooms on some of the newer plants. “Love and tenderness can go a long way for plants.”

“Uh-huh. The addition of natural sunlight, constant fresh air, and summer showers had nothing to do with it then?” Said the Demon who was leaning against the railing and watching Aziraphale as he fussed around the garden. He wouldn’t admit that the idea of moving his plants here was better for them. But really it gave him more of a reason to show up and pester the Angel whenever he wanted.

“More than yelling at them constantly for sure.” The Angel almost teased over his shoulder as he finished watering the plants, he had planted for himself. From below, the lush greenery was attracting attention. But having the garden gave him all the more reason to lock the doors downstairs and run up to ‘tend to other matters.’

“I still think this was an elaborate ruse to get me to move in with you, so you didn’t have to sell you precious shop. Eh, Angel?” Crowley was right behind him now, leaning down so his cheek nearly brushed Aziraphale’s. “You miss me that much?”

“After six thousand years I dare say that I enjoy your presence…” Came a soft reply, turning his head to look at the figure standing next to him. This response prompted a soft chuckle from the Demon.

“Enjoy?” Black clothed arms snaked their way around a beige clad figure. “I was thinking maybe. Desire my presence? Maybe look forward to it a bit by now.” He rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Crowley don’t be ridiculous. You know how I feel about you.”

“I do, but I do enjoy making you say it out loud.”

The truth was, ever since the night after the first Armageddon, the two had spent nearly every moment by the others side. Aziraphale had spent that first night at Crowley’s flat, and from then on, they went back and forth until one of them finally cracked.

The Angel invited him to move his things, plants included, to the large open space above his bookshop, which he had called his home for over two centuries now.

Crowley was delighted to do so.

In that time, they had exchanged words, long embraces, shared each other’s bed on the cooler nights even though neither of them needed to sleep nor keep warm.

It was the gentle intimacy that had formed between them. A general sense of comfort from having a long-lasting ally and friend at their sides.

It was Their Side after all.

One would almost call it love.

That one would be Aziraphale, even though Crowley denies any sort of feeling this emotion (he does) and denies that he enjoys the affection from the Angel (he adores it, but he has an image to keep up, you know.)

But it was love. A soft, gentle love that no mortal being could ever be expected to understand.

Aziraphale smiled and leaned into the embrace from Crowley.

“Would you be a dear and fetch my sun hat? It’s getting difficult to see in this light and shade would be lovely.”

“Of course, Angel.” He sighed out and with a delicate press of his lips to his cheek, the Demon released him and descended into the building to retrieve that item.

It had been nearly a year since the switch. A whole year since Armageddon. The peace almost made Crowley uneasy. Maybe it was just the heat, but he thrived in the heat.

It was then he felt something shift in the wind. He felt a presence he hadn’t felt in months.

And it was upstairs.

“Aziraphale!” He yelled, running up the stairs again. His instinct was to warn him. To protect him.

But once he was at the top of the stairs, he didn’t come to his garden. He was stepping into a well-lit, empty chamber with marble floors.

He was standing face-to-face with four of Heaven’s most powerful entities. All of them speaking in a broken, almost unnerving chorus.

“Welcome back.” They said in unison. “We’ve been expecting you.”

-

**The movement** on the Globe shook Raphael from his short daydream, shaking the thoughts of his lost love. Something was there. He turned so that his eyes could fall on England, a place he knew well. In a flash, he moved to report it in, but Gabriel was already leaning over his shoulder, laying a hand on his gray coat.

“That’s a big one.” The purple-eyed Archangel spoke. “Well done.”

He stood up straight again and looked over to where a squadron of Angels was already preparing to go for the battle.

“We’ll have it gone by sundown.”

-

**The events** of the following hours haunted all of Heaven. Raphael could only sit and wait. No one could see what was happening on Earth, but the Squadron sent after Hell’s latest attack were gone longer than expected.

This had Gabriel pacing behind him, and he was unable to pull his own eyes from the Globe as the presence remained in England. His breath caught in his throat. He didn’t dare ask.

“Do you think this is the next Antichrist?” Raphael asked finally when Gabriel approached him again.

Gabriel shook his head.

“This is bigger. Something far more dangerous.” He told him, motioning for the lower Angel to stand and follow him from the observation room. “Whatever this is, it’s going to need our full attention. We’re going to need everyone on board for our next move.”

Raphael followed Gabriel down the marble hallways, towards chambers that didn’t exist when he was initially in Heaven’s ranks. A large door opened before them.

The remaining three Archangels sat around a table, all looking at each other in despair. The Archangel turned to Raphael and held out a hand. “You wait out here. Don’t let anyone else come through. Don’t tell anyone what’s happening.”

“What-… Okay.” Raphael stepped back so the door didn’t close on him. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Why would Gabriel bring him all this way just to close him out? Why did he get brought before the assumed Archangel council?

-

**“Well?” Gabriel** said stopping as the door closed.

“The entire Guardian Fleet I has been destroyed,” Michael said after a moment of heavy silence remained in the air. “We can’t send another Squadron down now. It’s too dangerous. Whatever this thing is, it can control Hellfire and it can destroy Angels.”

“They were taken down so quickly,” Uriel said softly, looking over the other three. “Whatever this thing is, it needs to be stopped.”

Sandalphon shook his head.

“We need to know more about it first.”

They sat in silence for a moment, quietly gathering their thoughts.

“We need the full Angelic Audience for this. Summon everyone to the main hall and establish a connection with Metatron.” Michael said, standing to his feet with one smooth movement. “We need a plan quickly. The Almighty will not be happy with an entire Guardian Angel fleet being destroyed by an unknown Hell beast.”

-

**An Angelic Audience** is simply the term for the entirety of Heaven’s forces all being in one room. Every Angel of every rank and position is gathered to discuss important moves and future plans for Earth and the battle between their power and Hell. It takes time to do this, summoning every Angel from every corner of Heaven took time, just enough time for the Archangels to establish a plan. But first, they had other business to tend to.

Raphael was left standing outside of their meeting, arms crossed behind his back. It was obvious that his position had been temporarily changed to Guard. Since he already knew the severity of the situation, he wouldn’t worry about eavesdropping on their conversation, and with him outside, no one would even bother to disturb the gathering of the Four.

There were other Archangels, of course. Fifteen total before the Fall.

Many of them simply just reported to these four and left it at that so they could all meet at once. Uriel, Sandalphon, Gabriel, and Michael were the best talkers of the bunch and had the best habits of communicating and coming to conclusions.

Plus, it was no secret that God herself tended to favor these four when it came to Her final decisions.

In old times, he himself had been part of this council. After his fall, Sandalphon took his place at the table.

Those days were eons ago, and now he was just a lower-ranked Angel standing watch as they discussed.

Finally, the doors behind him opened, and he straightened his stance, arms behind his back. Gabriel was at his side again.

“Come.” He said and motioned for Raphael to follow, further down the hall. The remaining Archangels followed behind the two of them.

They came to a stopping point, a large newer set of doors opened, revealing a large room. The last of the Archangels were sat around in chairs at a long table. In their own section were the remaining Principalities. Each rank of Angel had its own section to sit in. At the center of the room, Metatron, the highest of Archangels and the voice of God Herself was standing near a bright pedestal.

Raphael internally teased Heaven’s flair for a big display. He thought Hell was dramatic. Oh, had he forgotten how dramatic Angels really could be?

Another think about Angels is they tended to chatter. That was honestly only the best word for it. Chatter.

That was until Michael stood to the center of the room and they all fell quiet.

Gabriel motioned for Raphael to stand to the side of his chair with a soft. “Stand here. You may be needed shortly. Don’t say anything out of line or you will be removed from the Audience immediately.”

He nodded and stepped back, out of sight.

“Fellow Angels.” Michael began, as the crowd hushed to a silence. The light by Metatron only burned brighter. “As you all know, it has been twenty years since the traitors stopped Armageddon. Since then we have been plagued by beasts from Hell’s gates trying to destroy the Almighty’s creation and gain the upper hand on the war to come.

“Earlier a beast was spotted on the surface of Earth, and a squadron of Angels was sent to fight it. These soldiers all fell victim to this new beast.”

Panicked chatter filled the room with horrified gasps.

“We could only describe this being as an Angel Killer. It destroyed the entire Guardian Fleet I in less than two hours after they were deployed. It has come to our attention that the only way to destroy this thing is to send one brave Angel down to collect information on this beast and bring it back here so that we may either destroy it or prepare forces to fight it as the New Armageddon begins.” Michael says once everyone has calmed down, Sandalphon stands this time.

“We will be looking for only a single volunteer. One who can go down to Earth and remain undetected as long as possible so that they might find and eliminate the Angel Killer. Or, upon the sight of the Four Horsemen beginning to ride again. The Great Plan continues, and through your sacrifice, we will be able to finally achieve the end of God’s workings.” He said, looking over the crowd. “The beast has the ability to control and manipulate Hellfire. Which will not only destroy the body provided, but your Ethereal form as well.”

A crowd of Angels, usually so full of their chatter, was silent. No one dared move or speak out of fear of the unknown abilities of this Angel Killer.

Raphael watched the crowd below them. This is ridiculous, no Angel in their right mind would go down to Earth on their own to face a beast of unknown origin other than Hell’s own sadistic labs. This creature, whatever it was.

Uriel finally stood to speak.

“This beast, I believe. Is also responsible for the unsolved cases of Angelic disappearances in the past years. As you all know many of our scouts did not return from small miracles. Somehow this beast had been moving undetected until now but could have been active for even the couple of decades, perhaps its first victim was the traitor Aziraphale himself.”

This piqued Raphael’s interest.

Suddenly he was more than aware that he, even as an Angel returned from hell, was not in his right mind.

He cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“I’ll go.”

A heavenly chorus of gasps filled the chamber at the red-haired angel approached the stand between Uriel and Michael, and Gabriel was on his heels.

“Raphael, I said don’t- “

“Let him speak,” Metatron said, silencing both the crowd and Gabriel in one sentence. “Raphael. You were once one of the Fallen, and now you return to our ranks. Why would you ask for such a deadly assignment?”

Raphael stepped forward, two Archangels on either side of him as he spoke.

“Because I was once in Hell’s ranks. I was high in these ranks as well. No one would know demonic influences as well as I would.” He started, brushing curls from his face once more. “I also spent over six thousand years on Earth. I am currently one of the most knowledgeable Angels on both of these topics. I discovered the existence of the Angel killer the moment it came onto our radars, as well.”

The fourteen Archangels exchanged glances.

“Why should we trust you?” Michael asked. “You’ve deceived us before.”

“You want me to earn your trust again? Prove that I am of Heavenly influence once again. Allow me to prove myself. I shall prove myself by putting my entire existence in harms way so that Heaven shall have the upper hand in the war. I will either succeed and we will be stronger, or I will die trying.”

RAPHAEL. MY INQUIZITVE CHILD.

God’s voice echoed through the chamber, demanding the immediate attention of all quarreling angels.

  1. DEFEND YOUR HOME. YOU SHALL PROVE TO BE MORE THAN FAITHFUL.

Gabriel finally let go of Raphael, who stood motionless, tears streaming down his cheeks from the sheer honor of being directly addressed by the Almighty after so many years of Her being silent towards him. It wasn’t uncommon for him to cry at this experience.

“Then it is decided,” Metatron announced to the crowd. “Raphael shall investigate the Angel Killer. May he return a hero or perish as a martyr.” He turned and faced the Angel still standing at attention.

-

“You will be issued a body. Since your previous demonic form was obliterated during your Rising.” Uriel said almost disdainfully as she led him down a corridor. Gabriel was stuck at his side while they walked to the dispatch center. “All you need to do is find the beat and recover information about it. If you are discorporated, be sure to return here as soon as possible. If possible, leave the body on Earth. You will have too much valuable information in your ethereal form for us to risk losing another Angel.”

Gabriel walked on towards the teleportation Globe.

“We’re sending you down outside of the twenty-foot radius of the Angel Killer. It shouldn’t be able to detect you. But in this body, your senses will be numbed. I’m sure you remember what it’s like to have this physical form.”

“I do.”

“Do you understand the risk your taking?”

“I do.”

Gabriel and Uriel exchanged matching glances before facing Raphael in one smooth movement towards him.

“If you pull this off and gain us an advantage.” Gabriel said plainly. “We will all vote to return you to the Archangel rank. Head of the Earth observation department.”

Raphael’s eyes widened at that statement; he could feel the Earthly body forming around his ethereal form as they spoke to him. He reached back and pulled his long copper hair into a low ponytail and looked over his soft gray clothing.

“I won’t let you down, Gabriel.”

“Let’s hope you mean that.” He replied. “God be with you.”

With that, Raphael was sent down onto Earth’s surface. Once he landed, he took a brief moment to take it all in. He could feel the air around him, the chill in the air that he would never have thought he would miss. But he caught himself, checking over his belongings and making sure everything made it on the trip down.

“Alright.” He said to himself, pulling his jacket tighter. “Let’s do this.”


	2. 2 - Now I'm Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael is still on the hunt for the Angel Killer, a few leads bring him to a familiar place... A cover story is all it takes to bring back memories of a love he lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ao3 will be doing an Update at the scheduled time I had to post this. So because I'm impatient... I'm posting it a day early.

** 5 Years Later (Twenty-Five Years after Armageddon Part 1) **

**“I wasn’t** even aware that Anthony Crowley had a son.” The gentleman said, walking alongside Raphael into the old building, miraculously kept in upstanding condition for the last twenty-five years.

“I don’t even think he was aware for the longest time.” The redhead spoke gently, looking around for any signs of damage for Aziraphale’s old belongings. It was almost as if the pair had never left. “Apparently he did some digging and reached out to my mother and I. Now I suddenly have a property in London that I must tend to. It’s quite strange really.”

“Strange indeed,” The man handed him the key to the bookshop. “No one has seen him or Mr. Fell in quite some time. Some say they left on a vacation to France and never returned, but the building was paid for and no one dared disturb this landmark. It’s over two centuries old, this shop.”

“I appreciate you letting me in…” Raphael pocketed the key and kept his eyes locked on some of the old books on the wall. Aziraphale’s treasures. The place had been untouched. No one on Earth understood how. He knew. He made sure it stayed that way. The taxes were paid, and the building remained in nearly perfect shape. It was the only connection he had to Earth while he was on Observation duty in Heaven.

It had taken him five years to concrete down a story as to why he should have it. Posing as his own son, again, taking the property from his father’s partner since “Mr. Fell had no children to pass it onto, of course, he would want the shop in the Crowley family’s hands. Go ahead and take care of that for me will ya, Raphael?”

Now he was here, back in the dusty old shop. After a quarter of a century had passed.

Heaven had been more than patient with him. Shortly after his arrival on Earth, the demonic presence of the Angel Killer had vanished. Like the Angels above, he didn’t trust that the beast was truly gone, merely hiding. So, he decided to do the same.

Humans had always been so easy to manipulate into believing him. His old charms still worked like a breeze, with a few angelic miracles, he was on his feet in no time.

And the Bentley? Not a scratch.

“I’ll leave you to it.” The man said, leaving the shop. “If you need anything, I like just down the road, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a good evening, Mr. Crowley.”

With that. The bell chimed, and the door closed. Sealing him inside this lost treasure, concealed by the passage of time and Angelic hands holding the door close. Raphael locked the door and pulled all of the shades down over the windows. The sunlight poured in still, giving the room its homely feeling.

He was home again. This was his home. But it wasn’t right yet. Not until he had the truth about what happened to Aziraphale.

Even if the truth is he was destroyed, he wanted to know what really happened to him. The old bookshop was a place to start.

Raphael set his sights on going upstairs.

The entire area looked like it had been frozen in time to the day he had been taken back to Heaven. The sunhat even laid on the floor next to the ladder to the upstairs garden. Hesitantly he picked it up and blew the layer of dust off that had formed. Even this was still in amazing condition. Setting it aside he made his way up to where their garden had been.

This is where the test of time had been most vicious.

The plants had all died, leaving endless planters full of dirt. They were cracked and spilling their contents onto the floor from twenty-five years of neglect. The sight saddened Raphael, he didn’t even make an attempt to heal them.

‘All in good time.’ He thought to himself before leaning on the barrier that looked over the streets below. The view hadn’t changed one bit. The city still expanded farther than he could see, and people and cars busied about underneath. Maybe a few buildings had been restored and the colors changed, but it was still the same city he remembered.

With a deep breath, he extended his Grace to try and get a read on any demonic activity that might be nearby. This was dangerous, he knew that the Angel Killer would be able to feel him if he did this correctly. But maybe at this height in broad daylight, he would gain some sort of advantage.

Given he also had several spray bottles of holy water in his suitcase downstairs, he felt relatively confident in his odds if the Hellbeast should come after him.

This time, however, he had no luck. Which gave him time for his second more personal mission. Find clues about the disappearance of Aziraphale.

He made his way back into the shop, locking the door tight behind him as he went. His feet brought him to the bedroom. The bed was still made form the morning they left; dark gray pajama pants tossed lazily onto the chair in the corner of the room next to a set of striped ones folded neatly on the table.

Raphael gave a soft chuckle as he ran his hands over the soft bed, remembering the lazy morning they had before they began gardening that day. He remembered the many nights he spent wrapped up in the Angel’s arms, the gentle whispers as he would fall into a light slumber next to him, the more intimate nights which resulted in laundry to be done the following morning. 

He closed his eye and let a single tear slide down his cheek before wiping it on his sleeve. Since he rose back to Heaven, he felt that his emotional side had somehow grown stronger, despite how emotionless many of the other Angels seemed; but it wasn’t time for emotions. He had work to do.

-

**Sunshine **poured in through the opened windows while the cool air of early spring blew the curtains from where they had been drawn just a few moments ago. Crowley rolled over in his sleep and felt the bed next to him empty. Figured. The Angel was already up and moving on with his day.

He had only been living with Aziraphale for a few months. While he had known most of the blonde’s routine by now, he now knew that this ethereal creature of habit had each moment of his day usually planned, starting from the moment the sun rose. Nearly every morning he would wake up to an empty bed with the window letting in the fresh air. He moved quietly, not to disturb the sleeping Demon, leaving his tartan pajamas laid neatly on the table until their next use.

Crowley knew that Aziraphale rarely actually slept but stayed in the bed next to him anyway. The Angel’s existence often leads to a peaceful sleep for him, so he appreciated the gesture, nonetheless.

It was the mornings after Aziraphale did sleep that he existed to enjoy. Those rare mornings when he would find the Angel still curled up in his arms, face gently squished against the pillow with white-blonde curls, even more, a mess than usual.

But he wasn’t getting one of those mornings today. Instead, he could smell the strong scent of coffee coming from the small kitchenette over the bookshop.

A smile crept its way onto Crowley’s face as he climbed out of bed and walked out of their bedroom to find Aziraphale perched at the kitchen table with the morning paper in one hand, a cup of earl gray in the other as he read. His eyes looked up from the paper and his expression immediately softened.

“Good morning, my dear.” He said with a bright ring to his words. “I trust that you slept well.”

“I did. The waking was a little rough, being on my own and all that.” Crowley teased in response, kissing the top of the Angel’s head as he passed by to get to the coffee that had been made for him. Despite not eating much, somehow the morning ritual had settled on him, and black coffee just had the right bitter taste that he could enjoy in these bright mornings.

“I’m not one for sleeping in.”

“I know, Angel. Still, wish you would just lay still a little longer sometimes.”

Aziraphale made a noise somewhat dismissive of Crowley’s request, returning his attention to the newspaper once again.

“At least you changed those awful sheets.”

“Tartan is stylish.”

Crowley walked over and laid his finger on the top of the newspaper, bending it back where he could get a full view of the Angel’s face.

“News Flash. It isn’t.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and flicked the paper back into its original position so he could continue his reading, but Crowley moved his down again, leaning in just a little closer to his face with his own quirked eyebrow.

Finally, the Angel figured out just what he was asking for and leaned in to softly press his lips to Crowley’s in a short but soft kiss.

Mornings like these, Crowley didn’t mind waking up alone. Someone was always waiting for him.

-

**Over** the buildings in the streets, Raphael could see the sun setting on the city of London. He quickly set to turning on some lights so that he wasn’t blanketed in total darkness inside of the old shop. Admittedly, he had spent most of his time in the upstairs portion where he had been staying. All of his old things remained mostly in boxed, including his favorite artworks and still a workload of files from Hell.

Which he would definitely use as fire kindling when it became time to do so.

Finally, he came to the wardrobe that he had filled upon moving into this smaller space. The different shades of black clothing all of which he wore in the past centuries. It was too dark for an angel to wear. Which a short flick of his wrist, a new selection appeared, shades of soft greys and maybe a little tint of rose shades filled a smaller section of the closet.

In his time returning to Heaven, he still refused to wear the full pastel attire that everyone else had adopted.

Why should he?

He’s not the pure being of Ethereal Love that they all claim to be on a constant basis. Raphael has seen Hell. Been a Demon. They won’t let him forget it so why should he act like he’s thrilled to be back amongst the clouds.

… The benefits were better but that was about it.

Truth is. He might not have meant to fall, but he didn’t necessarily hate being a Demon. Sometimes it was quite fun to mess with the angels and tip the scales. Causing minor inconveniences and little temptations were quite enjoyable.

Vaguely sauntering downwards was much more fun than having a stick named Gabriel up your metaphorical-…

Anyway.

Speaking of Gabriel, he still has some paperwork to fill out before he could call it a night and rest his form before going back out on a search for the Angel Killer. Sleeping gave him a chance to clear his head and set his sense straight before he would go and risk himself for Heaven’s sake.

Raphael picked up the folder and went into the bookshop where Aziraphale’s desk remained. He laid his own files down and looked over whatever it had been that Aziraphale had been working on the morning he went missing. A few ledgers, files and accounts for the bookshop, a letter from the Archangel Gabriel himself laid open for anyone to read. It looked like he was about to write a response.

He traced Aziraphale’s pointlessly neat handwriting with the tip of his finger, only gathering dust on the end. He remembered those nights he would lounge across the room while he would finish this work or work on his writing. Whether it be reports or accounts, Aziraphale set aside one hour for anything urgent that needed tending to each night before the sun would go down.

His peculiar quirks. How he mocked him for them before. Never would he think he would miss seeing the beige clad being sitting at this desk bent over his work and muttering to himself as he did.

“My Angel… Such a mess. You would absolutely hate to see your desk like this.” He whispered, picking up a few of the papers that had been a little scattered. One caught his attention. Written on it, was his old name. His Demon name.

He held it up in the light so he could read it better.

_‘My dearest Crowley,_

_ Though you are asleep only a floor above me, I cannot bring myself to join you tonight. Many things haunt my mind after what we did last year. Tonight, it has been exactly a year. One year ago, we stopped Armageddon and drew lines from our respective Head Offices. These lines, I still fear will be our undoing. I honestly never intend for you to read this note but writing all of this down helps me expend my worries without waking you to bother you._

_ You have such a way of making me feel calm about even the worst of situations. Like that day on the wall of Eden. Who knew a Demon would be the key to releasing my anxieties about doing the wrong thing?_

_ Certainly, neither of us would know it. In that moment, you approached me and changed the course of the Great Plan. Again, neither of us would have known it at the time. From that day you repeated your existence in mine. We were at odds. We fought, argued, and somehow came to the Arrangement. How good it felt to have something so solid with someone else who shared my immortal existence._

_ I never told you in all of those six thousand years, but I really am thankful for you. I never thought I would be thankful for the existence of a Demon in my life. There are many things I never told you. Things I can say now …’_

That was the bottom of the page, Raphael wiped he tears from his eyes and hurried to look around the desk for the other half of the letter. There had to be more, Aziraphale always signed his letters. There’s no way he would leave one open like this with no proper signature.

He wasted fifteen minutes searching Aziraphale’s papers and found nothing else that remained. He must not have finished writing it. The letter even said he never meant for Crowley to read the letter.

Raphael folded the letter and stuck it in his pocket. It was all he had left of Aziraphale for now.

He would hold onto it.

But right now, there was work to be done.

-

**Aziraphale laid his pen** down on his desk and removed his spectacles from his face. With a short glance to the clock, he could see that it was nearly time for the sun to rise already. He looked down at the letter he had composed. It was three pages in length. Signed with his signature, both in English and the Holy Sigil of his name. He picked up the pages and stuffed them all into a drawer so they would not be found easily by Crowley.

Turning out his lantern he made his way up the staircase, quietly making his way into the bedroom. With a quick movement, just to not wake the sleeping being in his bed, he changed into his pajamas and shifted the blankets so he could rest next to him.

The moment he decided to rest his eyes and close them, a thin arm snaked its way around his waist, pulling him closer to the thinner body that rested on the opposite side.

“It’s late…” A sleep heavy voice muttered in his ear.

“It’s actually quite early. The sun will be rising any moment now.” Aziraphale whispered, settling in Crowley’s hold. “I don’t normally sleep anyway.”

Crowley made a soft almost grunting noise as he buried his face in Aziraphale’s curls, letting out a huff.

“Go back to sleep, dear.” The angel said. “Have pleasant dreams. I’ll be by your side when you wake up.”

He felt the Demon’s grip grow loose, signaling that he had indeed fallen back to sleep. Aziraphale smiled and closed his eyes again, letting himself find a peaceful slumber. One night couldn’t hurt.

-

**Raphael awoke in a room tinted blue** from the drawn curtains; his cheeks were wet from what felt like tears. Angels don’t dream. Whatever had happened had caused his human body to produce tears. When he opened his eyes, they immediately fell on the undisturbed pillow next to him. He reached up his hand to straighten it before sitting up and looking around the room.

The bedroom, like much of the bookshop carried an odor that could only register in Raphael’s senses as nostalgia. Something old that was now disturbed. He didn’t smell coffee. Not like he used to. It was a bitter reminder that he was alone in a place where he shouldn’t be alone.

He pulled himself from the bed and made it up behind him before going to pull the curtains open so he could see the world outside. The sky was overcast, not unusual for London this time of year.

Today he would go out again and hunt for the Angel Killer. He needed to go out and establish a zone for hunting, a region that he would use in order to thoroughly hunt for the Hellbeast. Somewhere decent distance from any mortals, but close enough that he could return to the bookshop at night.

With a fluid motion, he was changed out of soft cotton and into some tighter fitting clothes, good to run in if he needed to. Once his hair was tied back, he gathered his things into a single shoulder bag that he could carry easily. He made sure the Holy Water would leak all over everything first.

He moved downstairs so he could leave but felt the undeniable feeling that he wasn’t alone in the old shop. A very… awful feeling indeed.

“Hello, Gabriel.” Raphael sighed out before even turning around. Sure enough, once he did, the Archangel was standing there, messing with a book on the table at the center.

“Why does it not surprise me that you chose to hide here?” He asked, looking over at Raphael.

“It’s still protected by the last of Aziraphale’s grace. The Angel Killer has probably already checked here. It wouldn’t come looking for me in an abandoned building.” He explained. “Besides. My own place had been destroyed and rebuilt into something else by now…”

“So this has nothing to do with Aziraphale? You know he _is dead_, right?”

“I know he’s gone, but this place remains. It’s only temporary. Once I destroy the Angel Killer, I will personally release this place back to the humans’ will. Along with all of these artifacts, old books… Everything.”

Gabriel nodded and looked around the old shop, giving a heavy sigh.

“It does feel like he never left…” The Archangel said, toying with the book atop the table once again. “But he did. You’re my charge now. I trust you won’t fail me as he did.”

“I won’t, Gabriel.”

“Good. I came to collect your papers as well.”

Raphael nodded and handed him the stack of reports he had been doing over the last six months. Heaven and their paperwork. Honestly, both sides should really look into how to make computers work for them. Normal files are just awful.

“Thank you.” He tucked the file away under his arm. “Happy hunting.”

As soon as he arrived, he was gone. Something washed over Raphael at that moment, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. The closest word he could find to describe it was just pure rage. Gabriel had come into his space and had done nothing but attack Aziraphale. Disgracing the dead.

For now, he kept his cool and pulled a jacket on before exiting the shop. He locked the door behind him and set out on foot to begin his day of hunting, leaving the Bentley parked on the nearby street corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Update - 10/11/19
> 
> Thank you all for your feedback so far! I love reading and responding to all of your comments! Just a heads up, I currently have up to chapter 5 of this written and oooo boy the next three chapters are HEATED.
> 
> You can track the story's progress on my Instagram and twitter accounts. I talk about Eye for an Eye quite a bit on their as far as progress and posting schedules!  
Find me at @cosploya on both platforms!


	3. 3- I Was Born to Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****CHAPTER CONTENT WARNING****  
****VIOLENCE AND MILD GORE ****  
****CHARACTER DEATH/DISCORPORATION****  
****BETRAYAL****

** Three Months Later (Twenty-Five Years and Three Months after Armageddon Part 1) **

**“Tadfield. It’s always Tadfield, isn’t it?”** Raphael grumbled to himself as he drove down the long stretch of road that leads to seemingly nowhere, talking to particularly no one. He was just used to having someone in the car with him. “Why can’t I have to go somewhere interesting? Why can’t I leave England? At least let me go to Scotland or something. Haven’t been there in a while… Or Wales…”

Truth is, he hadn’t really been anywhere in a while.

He had received a report earlier from above that a strong presence had been detected somewhere near where the previous antichrist had been left to live a normal human life. They suspected that the Angel Killer was going to make an attempt to re-convert the now-adult Adam Young back into a Hell Incarnate nature.

Of course, he saw why they couldn’t allow this to happen.

He packed a bag and took off immediately, feeling a warm nostalgic emotion overflow when he heard the music flood the vehicle. Just like old times.

Almost like old times anyway. In the passenger seat, this time was only an old brown bag with two plant misters full of Holy Water, a rather normal pocket-knife, and a change of clothes. There was no beige dressed Angel fussing at him to make a turn or reminding him to slow down so he didn’t hit anyone. It was almost too quiet for Raphael to feel comfortable.

He drove through the small town carefully, not stopping for anything, but he didn’t want to raise suspicions. Especially since his car might be recognized by a few folks that might still live in this area.

Last time he was here, he had to take a bus back to London. He had Aziraphale with him. That was the night he stayed the night. The night before the switch. Their first night.

Shaking the memories from his head he refocused on the road, out of the corner of his eye he could se a group of children running through the streets to get to their bikes. If only they knew the dangers that were lurking in these woods right now. Their parents would never have let them leave the house.

The Angel Killer, as far as Raphael knew by this point, had no interest in hunting humans. The Hellbeast only had a thirst for Angels. All it wanted was to hunt down these ethereal beings and destroy them.

Which made everything a pain for Raphael. Hell must have known there was a lone Angel on Earth, for the past few weeks he had been seeing numerous smaller Hellbeasts in his area. They would come for him and be defeated by the numerous traps he had set up, many never even made it into London. That only left him to question why this latest Beast hadn’t come for him yet.

It was obviously smarter, way smarter than any creature he had encountered or trained during his own time as a Demon. This only meant that whatever this thing was, it was some sort of creation straight from Satan himself. Not quite an Antichrist, but something to thoroughly distract Heaven while a second plan was constructed.

Heaven knew this, and they were on high alert more often than not these days. With a single Angel on the ground again, they were able to focus more on battle strategies than worry about minor miracles on Earth.

Raphael enjoyed the peace and freedom he had down here. Other than Gabriel randomly checking in and assigning paperwork for him to do. All he had to do was report his findings and make sure he stayed ever vigilant in his hunts. Everything was working out fine.

Other than the fact that he was here alone. He didn’t have anyone to annoy or pester or even talk to.

Again… His passenger seat was empty, save for a single brown bag.

After spending so much time down here on Earth. He had found no traces to Aziraphale’s whereabouts. He had to accept by now that the Angel was destroyed. Hell came behind and tore his body and ethereal form apart. There was no way around it now. The Angel Killer must have found him.

Aziraphale was this Hellbeast’s first victim, and it was about to be Raphael’s greatest victory.

-

**“Angel…”** Crowley groaned watching said being walk around the shop and tidy up not long after he had officially locked the doors for the night. “This is ridiculous. No one’s going to come for us.”

“And what if they do?” Aziraphale asked, closing all of the shades once he locked the windows as well.

“If they do then they won’t be stopped by those mortal locks and coverings.” The Demon chuckled. “Only humans can be stopped by those, and even that doesn’t always work.”

He was lazing over the small couch that was on the bottom floor of Aziraphale’s building.

“Don’t worry. I thought ahead for all of that.” The blonde turned and smiled at him. “This entire building has my own personalized blessing on it.”

“It’s not a very good one, is it?”

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m not on fire, am I? I come here all the time.” Crowley stretched out a leg as if to make his point.

“You’re the only Demon that can come in here,” Aziraphale stated, matter-of-factly. “I told you. My own personalized blessing. Any Angel can still come in, though.” He added with a soft sigh, checking outside of the window once again.

“So, we’re only half-protected.”

“Half is better than none.”

Crowley chuckled again and stood to his feet. He walked over and rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder to gaze outside with him.

“We’ll be fine. They said they’ll leave us alone. I don’t think either side wants to mess with us. Especially after the great show we gave them.”

“It was quite a show.” Aziraphale laughed a little and let the shade back down. He turned and looked at Crowley. “Ready to go grab some dinner?”

“You’re not worried about being attacked while we’re out there in the dark?”

“No being in their right mind would attack us while we’re surrounded by people. The park is one thing, but the middle of a restaurant would cause too much of a scene and involve too many miracles to fix.”

They shared a moment of silence, just staring into each other’s eyes before a grin broke out on Crowley’s face.

“The Ritz, then?”

“Sounds perfect.”

-

**Nighttime** had fallen over the Tadfield area that Raphael had come to. His car was parked on the edge of the forest with the lights off as he sat there quietly. He had seen no signs of the Angel Killer yet, and he couldn’t even detect any demonic energy in the area. He really didn’t feel anything.

Other than this… the warm feeling that washed over him from time to time. He knew it well, but he hadn’t particularly felt it in the longest time.

Words hung in his mind as he sat there, quietly watching the woods.

It was love.

_“Flashes of love.”_

He shook Aziraphale’s voice from his head. This was no time for reminiscing.

-

**“You know.** There’s literally nothing stopping us now.” Crowley said over dinner, sipping the champagne in his glass as he watched Aziraphale was enjoying his meal. His eyes glanced over to the Angel. “We could run away. We don’t even have to stay in England anymore. There are no more reports to write, no more memos to fill out. The best part about Our Side is that we can do whatever we want.”

“What brought all this on?” Aziraphale asked, wiping his mouth on his napkin. His eyes slid over the table and landed on the Demon with interest in his eyes.

“Just thinking… About everything that happened. Everything we’ve done together.”

The Angel nodded and leaned back in his seat a little to entertain the Demon’s train of thoughts, watching him.

“We could do it though. We don’t even have to stay on Earth.”

“Perhaps we give them time to calm down before we make any big moved, though.” Aziraphale offered after a moment of silence to gather his thoughts. “Stay still until they have decided not to move against us. Then we can.”

“We can what?”

“Run away. Like were begging to. We can go somewhere, make a new home.” He extended a hand to gently lay on top of Crowley’s. “Together…”

The waiter came by, refilling both of their glasses as the pair sat in silence, the statement hanging in the air. It remained somewhere next to an unspoken question, which remained still next to an unspoken phrase. The next moments would remain in both of their minds for the rest of their lives.

“Would you want that?”

“More than anything.”

-

**A cold breeze** pulled Raphael from his daydream. Something was close. Something powerful and evil was nearby. He had to go to it. He grabbed his bag and exited the car as quietly as he could.

Following the cold feeling into the woods, the clouds above him started to cover the moonlight that had been guiding him through the thick forest. As he walked, he tried to sense the Demonic forces he was searching for, baiting the Angel Killer out with his own Angelic forces radiating off of him.

He would draw this Hellbeast out one way or another.

With one hand wrapped around a mister of holy water, and another one pulling his bag onto his shoulder. The darkness grew heavier around him, and suddenly a feeling of dread came over him.

The Angel Killer was close, and he was the one drawing it out.

“Lord, guide me.” He whispered as he walked deeper, letting his senses take full control of him. “Protect me. Allow me to bring justice to this monster, the killer of your children.”

His prayer was probably calming himself down more than it was reaching out to Her. His anxieties were calmed as he heard a rustle in the trees beyond him.

“Almighty, grant me strength.” He said as he raised his mister in the direction of movement.

-

**The ride back** to the bookshop was abnormally quiet. The silence wasn’t as heavy as either being expected. Aziraphale had his head turned towards the window, watching the city lights go by outside of the Bentley. Suddenly, he felt something touch his hand. He looked down and found Crowley’s hand slowly intertwining their fingers. One hand still on the wheel as he appeared to be more focused on driving.

It made his heart beat faster all the same.

-

**Much to Raphael’s surprise**, the sound was only caused by a small rodent. He didn’t stand there long enough to figure out which kind before turning to walk back to his car. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he should just start driving back to London now.

The demonic feeling he had felt was diminishing now. He couldn’t sense any evil in this area anymore. Which was odd. It was giving him a feeling of unease as he turned back around. His eyes scanned the woods again.

A groan escaped him as he went back to the car and climbed in. He pulled his jacket around him, maybe he was just cold. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like not knowing what was going to happen. Finally, he just restarted his car and started heading back down the road.

He focused on getting back onto the main road, heading towards London once again. He felt like he wasn’t being paranoid enough. What was he missing? He felt that strange flash of love again.

He tried not to ask any questions, or to doubt the information that Heaven gave him, but he was unsure about what exactly was going on. Maybe Tadfield was just a really weird, really messed up place. It probably came from being the original place where Armageddon was accidentally supposed to take place.

With all of these thoughts flooding his mind, he almost didn’t notice a flash of white streak by his windshield, making him screech to a halt in the middle of one of the back roads. He was rather close to the airbase by now, maybe it was a drone. But why would they have a white drone flying around this late at night? It’s not like he was heading close to them on purpose.

He just made a wrong turn while he was lost in thought.

With an annoyed sigh, he turned around and started heading back in the other direction, going towards Tadfield. He drove slowly through the small town again, feeling a warm feeling in his chest as he passed through. Perhaps he should come back and check on Adam. After all, he kind of both messed up this kid’s life and saved the world all at once. He was almost forty by now… Should he get him a gift?

He saw the flash of white again, just as he left the lights of Tadfield’s streetlamps. That definitely wasn’t a drone. Perhaps an owl of some sort.

It was really big for an owl though… Perhaps…

Raphael pulled over and stopped, turning off his lights and completely shutting off the car. With a shaky sigh, he closed his eyes and extended his angelic senses, watching, waiting. Maybe he could sense something. Something… warm…

_“Flashes of love…”_

It was soon replaced by a cold shiver shooting down his spine.

The Angel Killer was near.

-

**“Some music perhaps?”** Aziraphale asked when they arrived back at the bookshop. He glanced over his shoulder at Crowley with a gentle smile. “Just a little background noise, drown out the city outside.”

“Music and wine?” Crowley asked with a low chuckle. “You’re spoiling me, Angel.”

Aziraphale smiled and set up a record to play before continuing passed and towards the back room where he kept his more personal items.

It was nothing fancy, just something soft with piano. Something about it seemed very Aziraphale to the Demon. It wasn’t familiar to him either, but he let it play, surprisingly joyous to hear something other than Queen for once.

Then again, he wasn’t in his car. He was in the bookshop.

He was inside Aziraphale’s bookshop. His most prized possession for going on two centuries now. He kept everything here that he cared about in this one building. It was a clever little ruse really. Why else would one man own so many books? As long as no one asks why he doesn’t really sell them. Not without a fight.

“Here we are.” Aziraphale returned with a bottle of wine in his hands, setting it on the table along with two glasses.

“You think one will be enough?”

“I have more…”

-

**Raphael** steadied his shaking hand around his mister as he exited the car. He began to pray again, silently. He couldn’t alert the Hellbeast to his presence any more than he already had. The night was still and quiet around him, save for the rumble of thunder he could hear in the distance.

It was going to rain soon, which isn’t abnormal for England this time of year…

He calmed his breathing and waited. He wasn’t going to try anything else to draw it out. The Hellbeast wouldn’t be able to sense him if he didn’t extend his grace.

The air around him changed again, blowing in a different direction now. It was warm.

_“Flashes- “_

-

**With only **the first bottle of wine empty, the conversation had stayed light through the entire time they were in the bookshop. A welcome change compared to how heavy it had been over dinner.

Both beings were light and full of laughter, reminiscing the good times, ignoring the bad, forgetting about the danger they could be in at any moment for merely being in each other’s presence. But right now, neither one could find the strength to care.

[The music picked up a little](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=97lUjpDrZ5s), Crowley found himself paying more attention to it now as he watched Aziraphale’s smile come back from whatever fit of laughter they had just finished. He didn’t even remember what was said at this point, but he was struck with an idea.

Standing to his feet, the Demon set his wine glass aside. He plucked the glass from Aziraphale’s hand and extended his own free one as he set the half-empty glass aside.

“Dance with me…?”

“Dance with you?” Aziraphale asked and laughed softly. “My dear boy, Angels don’t dance, and Demons simply _can’t._”

“Scared?”

Aziraphale looked at him and took the hand that was extended to him, letting himself be pulled to his feet. No Demon was going to intimidate him.

“No one is here to judge us, Angel…” Crowley said, pulling him close. “Besides. I learned how to properly slow-dance. I’m not a _complete_ monster.”

“You _are _a Demon thou- “

“Can’t we ignore that for now?”

Aziraphale looked shocked at the interruption, brows furrowing a little. Crowley sighed and positioned their arms together so he could show him how to slow dance.

“I know, okay? But this is Our Side. For right now. Let’s not be an Angel and a Demon… Let’s just be Crowley and Aziraphale. Two man-shaped beings spending some quality time together…”

Before Aziraphale could speak again, he pulled the fussy Angel close to him, pressing their bodies together in the softest of movements. Nothing was being rushed. He didn’t want to think about another war or to let either of their fears ruin this moment between them. Slowly swaying, he felt Aziraphale loosen up and join him in their dance.

It was slow.

But this was so much better than the dance they had been doing for the last six thousand years. Arguing until one of them gave in. Skirting around Heaven and Hell in an attempt to not let their bosses know what they had been up to…

That was nothing compared to the dance they had been sharing for the last few months. The new dance consisted of stolen kisses, long embraces, and nights of silence before Crowley would fall asleep.

It all created a wave of emotion in Crowley. One he couldn’t place until he felt Aziraphale laid his head on his shoulder.

Suddenly he knew all too well.

“I love you, Aziraphale…”

-

**A flash of white** flew passed Raphael’s vision, snapping him from his own memory. Something strange had been triggering these memories to come back. He didn’t know what it was. But the thought frightened him.

What if the Angel Killer knew him better than he thought?

“Come out and face me, Beast!”

He wished he had never said it.

Because now, less than three meters in front of him was a figure dressed in pure white. From its hair to its clothing. He could barely see it in the quickly diminishing light, but familiarity flushed through him. More than familiarity.

“Flashes of love…” He whispered to himself, holding the mister up again.

The Hellbeast chuckled in front of him, head still positioned down.

“Did you say something, little lost dove?”

Raphael’s eyes widened. It can speak. Hellbeasts can never speak. They’re just beasts. Hell would never grant a lowly creature the ability to formally communicate with its prey.

But that wasn’t all that surprised him.

That voice… It was… So familiar.

“A-…Aziraphale?” He asked, shakily, but not losing his stance.

“My my… I haven’t heard that name in quite some time.” The Angel Killer spoke again, lifting its head up. Piercing blue-grey eyes found Raphael’s. The soft white-blonde curls laid on his head.

That body… that was definitely Aziraphale... Or Aziraphale-Shaped. Raphael knew him better than anyone else. Before he could speak again, the Hellbeast spoke.

“You’re the one Heaven sent to kill me? All by yourself?” He asked, his tone rising to a taunt. “I wiped out an entire squadron of Guardian Angels. Yet they send you… To end me?”

Raphael lowered the mister as a strange laugh emerged from his once gentle Angel. No… This being was no Angel anymore.

“Aziraphale… It’s me… It’s Crowley.”

The laughter stopped.

“Crowley?”

“Yes, love…”

The white-clad being crossed the distance and threw his arms around Raphael, hugging him tight to his chest, chin balanced just on the Angel’s shoulder. Raphael almost drew back at how cold he felt to the touch, Aziraphale should never be this cold. Maybe it was the cold air of the night keeping him like this. 

“This cannot be real…” Its voice shook as it spoke.

“I promise this is very re – “Raphael began to speak when he felt something sharp enter his form, causing him to let out a cry of pain. The Hellbeast was still holding him up, still speaking.

“My dear boy… How could you be my Crowley?” He pulled the knife from the Angel’s back and let his form crumple to the ground. “Your lot killed him twenty-five years ago… Silly Angel…”

Before his Ethereal form took any more Damage, Raphael ejected himself from the body, discorporating it manually. He sucked in a quick breath as he appeared on the floor of the Transportation room up in heaven. He clutched his chest and looked around the room before he could even find the words to speak again, and when he did, it came out in a low terrified whisper. 

“What has hell done to you, Aziraphale…?”

-

**Down on the ground**, the Hellbeast watched as the physical form of the Angel disintegrated. A pity. He wouldn’t get to finish this job… This time. Surely the red-haired Angel would come looking for him again.

Foolish Angels. So stubborn when they wanted to be.

“It is interesting. You did resemble him somehow…” He said to no one in particular, whipping his knife on a black handkerchief he had in his pocket, he sheathed the blade again before bowing his head, almost in prayer. “My dear, I killed another one for you. I hope you’re doing well… Wherever you might be…”

-

**Aziraphale** looked up at Crowley, pulling his head from where it was resting on his shoulder. A look of mild surprise covered his face before it softened into something gentle and joyous.

“I love you too, my dear…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Announcements!!  
1- There will be no Upload next week (October 19) due to many reasons, It's mid-term season and I am a sad college student, I am also going to a Convention Friday night and will not have my computer with me. Because of Exam stress, I won't have enough time to properly edit and finish Chapter 4, which is currently a mess.  
2- The music is linked above in the fic, but here are the proper credits  
Music used  
First Dance by Jonny Easton  
Link: https://youtu.be/97lUjpDrZ5s  
Check out his channel  
Link: https://www.youtube.com/jonnyeaston  
Why Aziraphale has this on record and how? Is... ineffable...? I dunno it's just pretty.  
3- Once this fic is over, I plan on posting a companion story, with a chronological copy of the Crowley/Aziraphale bits.  
4- Thank you all for sticking with me! I love reading and responding to all of your comments!!


	4. 4 - Death On Two Legs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOO BOY
> 
> This chapter went through about 4 different edits so that I could get the pacing right. It has some that I took from 3 and I moved some of it to 5. It's a mess. I'm a mess.
> 
> I passed all my midterms by the way!!!

** One Week Later (Twenty-fives Years, Three Months, and One Week after Armageddon Part 1) **

**Getting a new body** and permission to return to Earth is taking longer than Raphael wanted it to take.

The entire argument was that it was too dangerous for him to go back alone and he should just take the loss and return to his station in Observation until a team of professionals could go and clean up his mess.

The biggest mystery of the night was why Raphael was able to return to heaven without being completely destroyed. Even the Angel himself couldn’t answer that one. Deep down, he wanted to believe that Hellbeast really was the shell of Aziraphale. Somewhere in that corrupted body was a memory of what they shared before his Rising.

Really, he accredited it to the fact that he was quick enough to send himself from the body and back to Heaven before the Hellfire could touch his ethereal form.

Once again, he is in front of the Archangels, pleading his case, hoping and praying they would just give him at least one more chance.

“Raphael, enough of this.” Uriel insisted, holding her head in her hands by this point of the conversation.

“No one else wants to go.” He reminded them. “No one else knows Earth. No one else has even seen the Hellbeast and survived.”

“You didn’t survive. You were Discorporated.” Gabriel reminded him.

“On my own accord. I panicked, yes. But I know what to hunt for now. I know the specific energy to draw myself to and I know when it’s ready to attack.”

The truth is. Raphael hadn’t shared any details of his encounter with the Angel Killer. He feared what would happen if Heaven knew they were using the appearance of Aziraphale to lure Angels into false security.

That seemed like a Hell thing to do anyway. Create a peaceful appearance, tempt them into trusting their killer, strike when the time was right. He had used this technique many times when it came to smaller temptations in the past. It was so much easier when the human mind was simple.

He didn’t want to think of what Heaven would do if they found Hell had turned Aziraphale into one of their own. The very thought of that made his entire existence ache. If anyone was going to figure this out, he wanted to be the one to go down there and do it. The other Angels surely wouldn’t hesitate to kill him directly on sight.

And that, made his heart ache.

There had to be something he could do.

“Let me return to Earth,” He said again, “Allow me to prove to you that I can do this. Let this makeup for my mistakes. Any errors. If I do this, then Heaven will win the war.”

“You sound certain of that, Raphael.”

“Give me time. I need time and I need the approval to return time and time again. I can finish this Hellbeast. I can thwart Hell. No one knows their workings like I do.”

The Archangels all exchanged a glance before Michael let out a sigh and turned to look at Raphael.

“What exactly are you asking for, Raphael?”

“Full approval to go to Earth, permission to perform level three miracles, and repetitive access to a new body when confrontation turns out of my favor.” He explained. “Also, some Holy Water.”

“You met the Hellbeast. It discorporated you, and you still believe you can kill it?”

“I believe that anything is possible if given time. You’ve all been patient with me and granted me this opportunity. Let me show you that your faith in me was not misplaced.”

Raphael stood in silent pleading as the conversation grew too quiet for him to hear across the room. He almost held his breath while he waited. There was no possible way he would be able to actually kill this Hellbeast if it were really Aziraphale and not something that acts like him.

But the look a familiarity that flashed in the Hellbeast’s eyes, the way it was so quick to embrace him, that voice. There was no possible way it was just a copy. Whatever they had done, it had been done directly to the fussy principality that he once called a friend. Even Hell couldn’t recreate that warm feeling of love that Aziraphale radiated. It had just been covered up by layers of fear and torment that transformed him into that thing he faced.

Maybe… Just maybe… He could take the chance and fix him. Or try to. It couldn’t be that hard. He had convinced Aziraphale to work alongside him before, he could do it again. No temptation required. No Hellish intervention.

“Raphael,” Sandalphon said, snapping him from his thoughts. “Your permissions will be granted. Misuse them, and they will be removed.”

“However, your chances will be limited,” Uriel continued. “Should we start to suspect you are to be mistrusted, they will be revoked immediately, and you will be put on trial for treason.”

“As you know from your own experience,” Gabriel added. “There is no trial. Only punishment.”

“The Almighty will not be as forgiving this time, Raphael.” Michael stood, staring at him across the table. “You thought Retribution was terrible. Betray Her again, and there will be Heaven to pay.”

Raphael stood, wide-eyed and suddenly filled with the fear of God herself, suddenly knew the same fear that his old plants would feel every moment of their existence.

“I understand.”

-

**He was transported just outside** the bookshop this time, in the middle of the night, looking up at the old building with its still shaded windows. He gave a sigh of relief and brought his car back to the street corner, only when no one was looking. Once inside, he set all the lights on and returned to tidying up downstairs. Aziraphale would have a fit if he saw the shop in this condition.

Being back on Earth and an Angel made Raphael realize just why Aziraphale did everything the way he did. Heaven was way stricter about their policies and watched him like a hawk. Hell never played around and checked-in more than he was ever comfortable with, but even then, they wouldn’t document every little thing he did to go back over at the end of the month.

All he had to do then was report in every so often and hope he didn’t get found hanging around an Angel.

No wonder Aziraphale just always ended up in trouble. If Heaven found out he was going to be executed in 1793 because he wanted a snack and miracle himself away immediately he would have had at least seven different forms to fill out, another letter from Gabriel, and not to mention the paperwork required after discoporation.

Raphael found that out after his first encounter with the Angel Killer.

The bookshop welcomed him with the warmth that still remained of Aziraphale’s grace. This was the Principality’s safe place.

It soothed him even to feel the pure love that the Angel had for this old dusty building. It calmed him to feel it again after being stuck in Heaven doing paperwork as long as he had.

It only saddened him more now.

That Hellbeast he was after had every trait that would denote that the creature is, or was, Aziraphale. From the soft hair to the eyes with a color that was hard to determine in certain lights, to the pale clothing that just suited him all too well.

But white is no color for a demon to wear.

So, something inside the Hellbeast was rebelling, whether it be thought or motive, no demon would ever be caught wearing white unless they were to make a statement towards the higher (lower??) powers of Hell.

Maybe that would be a good thing for him.

If there was even a trace of Aziraphale left in that shell, then he would have to fight to bring it out. 

But he didn’t know anything about this sort of situation. Many of the original Fallen Angels didn’t so much care about their past in Heaven. It would make sense that a newer Demon would care even less, they had survived in Heaven for this long, surely, they would be bitter and angry, too far gone to even save…

Even he had felt that way at one point.

Lost, abandoned, betrayed.

He couldn’t afford to fail and lose track of the Hellbeast again. If it knew that an Angel was specifically following and tracking him then there would be sooo much paperwork to even get a chance to come back again. Raphael would have to be inconspicuous, bring back a few old tricks to weave in and out of the crowd.

Maybe if he could draw the Hellbeast into London this time. He could distract it, figure out its weaknesses and draw any more information from it. Maybe it does enjoy fancy dinners and fine wine and old dusty bookshops.

Raphael wanted to believe this thing could be fixed. He really wanted to think this was all an unfair dream and he was just really close to waking up in bed next to a blonde Angel that had for some reason slept in that morning. He knew he would have no such luck.

So, for now, he stuck with his active imagination that this Hellbeast was nothing but a Fallen Aziraphale that he could fix. At least return to his senses. Then they could just continue living together here on Earth. Sure a few things would be different.

The clock struck midnight and pulled Raphael from his train of thought.

Maybe he should get some sleep. Resting his physical form might allow him to think more clearly and less like he was living some sort of daydream.

Sleeping always makes things feel better.

-

**While the Angel slept**, peacefully tucked away in the small upstairs flat that only existed when it needed to, something was lurking in the nearby streets.

Demons, as is common knowledge, are quite big fans of lurking. Some might call it stalking their prey or keeping watch over a particular target of theirs before the decision to make their move and act.

This Demon, however, was just watching, while he does enjoy the occasional lurk. It watched the old shop with dark eyes from its hiding spot amongst in the trees. It had been years since he had seen lights on in the old place. He suspected foul play now.

The Angels were onto their little game for sure. They had launched many attacks against their Hellbeasts in the past. Now they were tacking their latest experiment.

“I better report this.” The demon muttered to himself. “Even after Rising, Crowley still manages to be a thorn in our side…”

-

**Raphael didn’t leave** the bookshop again until the following night. Once again, he set out in his car and left the city. This time, he only stopped outside of the city limits before getting out of the car.

If he was going to make this plan work, he would need to do it quickly and not let anything else get attracted to his Grace.

With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and focused in on searching for any demonic energy. It wasn’t difficult, but as Heaven had reminded him, Ethereal senses are numbed slightly when he was in this physical form. It took much more effort to accomplish anything, and a small miracle if he needed to get away in a hurry.

If any smaller Hellbeast were attracted by this act, he knew how to defend himself and send them back to the Pits with no problem. Even as a Demon he had fought many smaller Hellbeasts when they would break loose from their holding cells. Mostly because many lower Demons were too afraid to even stand up to them when they were loose and hungry.

Thankfully for them, Crowley felt exceptionally helpful on many of those days, and would happily destroy the Hellbeast for nothing more than a small favor later.

Slowly, but confidently, he extended his Grace to draw the Angel Killer near. He had a plan. A very stupid plan, but that’s always been strangely on-brand for his plans.

“You really are a stubborn little dove.” A familiar voice came from behind him.

Raphael turned with Holy Water clutched tight in his hand, producing a chuckle from the Hellbeast in front of him.

“You are here to kill me, right?” It asked, holding out its arms as it took a step back. “Why haven’t you?”

“Who are you?” Raphael asked in response, lowering his arm slightly. “Tell me your name.”

“Quite rude of you to ask me my name without first giving me yours.” Raphael hesitated before sighing.

“Raphael.”

The Hellbeast’s eyebrow raised as a reaction, a smirk growing on his face while he brought his arms down fully, shoving boke hands in the pockets of the white jacket he was wearing. Raphael, against his better judgment, lowered the spray bottle in return. Maybe the Hellbeast was open to conversation. Had he been wrong, and this was going to be easier than he expected?

“Archangel Raphael?” He asked, chuckling. “Where did they hide you? I haven’t heard that name since the Fall.”

“That’s not important.”

“I’m just curious…”

“Your name, Beast.”

“You’re a feisty little dove.” He started walking closer to the Angel, guard lowered as he did. “Lose your way? Is Gabriel on your case? He can be such a bother when he wants to be.”

“Aziraphale. Stop this.”

The Hellbeast laughed, something dark and menacing, way too much so to be Aziraphale.

“There you go with that name again…” He sighed, standing barely a meter away from Raphael now. His eyes scanned over the Angel as if he were searching for something. When he didn’t find it, heavy grey eyes met gold. “But you’re much too late to use it, dear Angel.”

“You’re lying to yourself, Aziraphale. I know you remember me.” Raphael tried again. “Please. It’s Crowley. Whatever Hell told you, it’s a lie.”

“Say that name again and I’ll destroy you where you stand.” A heavier voice came from the throat of the Hellbeast in front of him. “Crowley is dead. Aziraphale is dead. You delusional Angel.”

The Hellbeast closed the distance with a blur of white flashing before him before something sharp buried its way into Raphael’s physical abdomen making him cough up blood onto the face of the Hellbeast in front of him. With a twist, the pain grew too much for him to stand, but he held onto this physical form, just for a bit longer. He needed to try.

“Azi… Please… My Angel…” He managed to whisper before he was thrown across the clearing, hearing many things snap inside him. The pain was getting to be too much. He needed to destroy this body soon. It was too far to save with a simple miracle.

When his eyes opened, he saw the Angel Killer standing over him, eyes dark with wrath.

“He’s dead.” The Hellbeast repeated. “Just like you.”

That was all he heard before Raphael sent his Ethereal form flying back into the Transportation room, gasping for air he didn’t even need. Angels rushed to his side to help him to his feet. He hadn’t even made it a full twenty-four hours this time… He would definitely hear about this one…

All he could do was turn his head to the side to some of the other angels all watching him in shock.

“Get me another body. Quick.”

-

**“How are you escaping the Hellfire?”** Gabriel asked, having appeared the moment Raphael made it back to the bookshop on Earth a few hours later. They hadn’t spoken while he was in Heaven, so of course, the Archangel would follow him back to the comfort of his little base.

“I get away before it can be activated,” Raphael answered plainly, looking at him with a shrug. “From what I can tell, the Hellbeast can choose whether or not to use the Hellfire and destroy Angels. Probably using me as an example right now.”

“I still think you should give up.”

“I know- “

“You should come back upstairs and let some professionals handle it.”

“And let the Angel Killer continue to destroy more and more of our soldiers every time? Leaving our ranks smaller when the war comes? I’ll take my chances.”

Gabriel shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh.

“You have always been so stubborn.”

“So, I’ve heard.”

“I’ll leave you to it. Don’t let this planet corrupt you. Remember, you’re one of us now. Don’t let anything distract you from the light, Raphael.”

With that, the Archangel was gone from the shop, leaving only Aziraphale’s Grace in the air around him, filling Raphael with that warm loving feeling again. But even surrounded by Aziraphale’s love, he felt so empty and lost with what he should do. Gabriel was on his case now more than ever. He was going to have to be extra careful now. He needed a plan. A better plan. One that wouldn’t result in him discoporating again and losing any more trust from his superiors. He needed that. He needed them to think he was doing this for them.

He had to figure it out. What did Aziraphale do for six thousand years that let them believe he was being at all competent.

Aziraphale rarely ever had a plan, he barely made his own plans. He simply followed orders and did as he was told, or did what Crowley suggest to him.

When he did make a plan, he knew what he was doing. Every movement and every moment was precisely figured out and plotted. He would spend hours in this very shop doing research and figuring everything out before he would go to Crowley or go to Heaven with what he wanted to do.

That’s what he needed to do. Sit down and figure out some sort of better plan. Something better than “find the Hellbeast and talk to it until it tells me what I want to hear.”

He sat down at Aziraphale’s desk again, running his hands over the old wood. Aziraphale’s spectacles rested on the corner, his notes scattered about, all of it useless to what he needed to do.

“Just give me something… Anything will do.”

-

**Their next encounter**, Raphael wasn’t actively searching for the Hellbeast, but merely taking a nighttime walk to clear his head and try again to generate a better plan. His head was down, hands in his pockets as he wracked his entire being to try and think of something. Trying to think of some way to make this Hellbeast give in and let him help. s

He was lost in thought when he felt the undeniable feeling of a knife pressed to his back, not pressing in, just very sharp against his spine.

“Hello, Beast.” He said, sounding monotone this time. “Come to discorporate me?”

“It’s no fun if you are not fighting back, little dove.” The Hellbeast.

Heaven above, Raphael hated to hear Aziraphale’s voice sounding so dark and heavy like that. He wanted this nightmare to end. In one movement, he shut out the lights and moved in pure instinct to pin the Hellbeast into a dark alley, out of the sights of any mortals. Having figured out that walking unarmed was too dangerous and considering he didn’t really want to destroy whatever entity the Hellbeast is with Holy Water, pulled his own knife, holding it firm against its throat.

Knowing very well, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to actually do any damage. Not when he was staring into the soft eyes of his once lover.

Eyes that were now teeming with delight and excitement, a frightening grin covering his features, the sight made the Angel shiver, wanting to drop the knife and go back to the bookshop.

“That’s more like it, Raphael.” The Hellbeast purred.

“Why did you follow me?”

“I just wanted to see if I could catch you off guard.” It almost sang, grinning the whole time. “I figured you might be a little off your game. Having been hidden away by Heaven for so long. You never told me where they kept you.”

“I told you. I am Crowley. Heaven didn’t keep me anywhere but in the basement for over seven thousand years.”

“Crowley was killed by Angels. Try again, dove.” Its voice grew dark again, it obviously didn’t like Crowley’s name being mentioned. Not so loosely anyway. That gave Raphael the slightest shred of hope.

He pulled the knife away, backing away from the Hellbeast with both hands in the air.

“I’m not going to kill you. Not this time.” Raphael said. “I just want to know your name.”

“You are very stubborn.”

“Thank you, I get that a lot.”

They stood there in silence for a while before the streetlight turned back on and cast their shadows against the back wall. Raphael kept his eyes locked on the Hellbeast in front of him. “Are you going to tell me or not, Beast?”

“Well, that depends. Are you going to keep calling me a Beast when I am clearly a Demon?”

Raphael’s mouth dropped open to respond before it kept speaking.

“Hellbeasts don’t get the pleasure of communication. You should know that by now, I am no Beast.” It straightened its jacket, fixing his appearance. “But since you are an Angel, and I seem to be seeing you here more often. I can give you the pleasure of knowing my name that you ask for…”

“You’re so kind,” Raphael mumbled, making the Demon hiss. Oh right. Soft spot on Demons, he almost forgot… He really didn’t. Angels can be bastards too.

“It’s Azier.” The Demon stated plainly. “Most of Hell refers to me as Zi.”

He nodded, taking this information in. This was good. An Angel and a Demon stuck in a never-ending loop of Good vs. Evil on Earth. That could be arranged. It had worked before.

“Azier…” He repeated.

“If you’ll excuse me, I do have matters to be tended to this evening, and since you’re sparing me the pain of discorporation tonight. I’ll do the same. I’d just hate to get blood on my new coat.” Azier turned and started heading out of the alley that Raphael had pulled them into. “Until we meet again, Raphael.”

“Hey wait!” Raphael tried to follow him out and down the street, but the Demon had somehow vanished into thin air. With his own knowledge of demonic forms, he knew that Azier had either transformed and left or just miracled himself away. 

With a groan he finished his walk to the bookshop, locking the door behind him. Leaning against the door he ran a hand through his hair, giving a heavy sigh into the dust-filled air. Those mannerisms, that name, even the still their manners of a being who focused way too much on his appearance for six-thousand years.

That was no Hellbeast at all.

That was a Demon.

And that Demon was a freshly fallen Angel.

His Angel.

Whatever had caused him to Rise again, had simultaneously caused Aziraphale to fall and become… That. That cold-blooded killer, robbing him of any emotions behind his eyes, taking away even the slightest hint of who he had been in his past. Hell had a habit of stripping everything away and turning you into their own puppet.

And now they had Aziraphale too.

The thought of Hell torturing him. The idea that they robbed him of all of his joy and all of his Grace as they broke him down into a cold, senseless killer. He started to shake, stepping into the bookshop and knocking over the center display in a violent rage sending first-editions and vintage books flying to the ground as he also crumpled to his knees clutching his chest.

This feeling. It almost felt like…

_“The Almighty will not be as forgiving this time.”_

But he wasn’t falling. This feeling in his chest was a warning. A warning to not let himself get carried away, not to get carried back. The lack of sulfur in the air calmed him, the cool air of London pulled him back to his senses, the soft light in the bookshop and the warmth of Aziraphale’s grace surrounded him like a comforting embrace.

Raphael stood to his feet, taking a deep breath of the dust-filled air that surrounded him. He looked around the shop before flicking his wrist and resetting the books to their original position. If only Heaven knew how far he was willing to go to save this Demon, they would throw him into the pits of Hell faster than he could even say his own name

It was going to take the most Amazing Grace to save Aziraphale, and he would do everything to save him…Even if he falls again…

He was willing to do whatever it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another big thanks to everyone who comments and kudos!  
Your continued support keeps me going!  
Next Update: November 1, 2019


	5. 5 - I'm Going Slightly Mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub - A Fallen Angel and Prince of Hell, Lord of the Flies  
Dagon - A Fallen Angel, Lord of the Files  
Hastur - A Fallen Angel and Duke of Hell  
...  
Azier - An Angel who did no so much Fall, but gave up and drifted slowly downwards, Demon of the Hunt

** One Year After Armageddon Part 1 **

**To understand** the true depth of Azier’s corruption. One would have to go back. So, this story, like many others, begins in a garden. Where the once-proud Guardian of Eden’s eastern gate was currently tending to some flowers he was growing on the roof of his bookshop.

This very same bookshop had a very special blessing over it. One the Angel, Aziraphale, was quite proud of. For inside of this shop, and the flat that appeared when he needed it, there was a blessing, preventing any unwelcomed Demon from entering. This blessing, a wonderful miracle of his own, would only let the Demon Crowley through, allowing his companion to come and go as he pleased.

Being a Principality had its perks sometimes. Shaping a miracle into a blessing such as this, wasn’t one of them, but no one would question him about it. Heaven didn’t check on him much these days, especially after the spectacle that Crowley made when they pulled their little ruse. Even if an Angel did come looking for him and asked about the building, he could claim it was simply for his own protection.

Currently, he was leaning into the arms of the Demon he lived within this wonderful blessed bookshop, letting himself relax in the embrace that had come from behind. A soft smile rested on his face as he shifted the soil in one of his own planters. His eyes squinted as the clouds form the morning showers moved to reveal the brilliant sun that was behind.

“Would you be a dear and fetch my sun hat? It’s getting difficult to see in this light and shade would be lovely.”

“Of course, Angel.”

With a soft kiss to his cheek, he felt the Demon release him and disappear into the building downstairs. The door closed softly and Aziraphale let out a relieved sigh. Things were excellent. His business wasn’t thriving, but this beautiful garden was, which both of those he considered a huge success.

He heard something move behind him, assuming it was Crowley he didn’t bother to turn around.

“If you were going to miracle it into your hand, you didn’t need to make a spectacle of going into the bookshop.” Aziraphale chirped in a teasing tone.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A gruff voice responded, making his entire corporeal form go cold.

“You…” The Angel muttered and turned around quickly, picking up a garden tool and instantly wondering why he chose a garden tool over a real weapon. “What do you want?”

“I came here looking for Crowley.” The Demon smirked, stepping closer to Aziraphale, who was mildly panicked now. But Crowley was just downstairs, he’ll be back any more. Crowley would save him. He’s always there to save him. Just in the nick of time too.

Any moment now.

“I think this will be a lovely exchange.” The Demon said and wrapped both hands around Aziraphale’s neck, putting pressure just where he needed to make the Angel blackout, unconscious before he can eject from his physical body.

The last thing he can hear is the sound of someone yelling his name.

-

**Aziraphale awoke** in a cold damp place. He was lying on the cold stone in a small room with very little light around him. He groaned as he sat up from the hard ground and tried to look around and see where he was. As he moved, he felt something pull at his wrists.

He was chained up in a dungeon.

No surprise there, not the first time.

Which means Crowley should be here any moment to save him. Perfect. He could just sit here and wait.

He leaned against the wall behind him and tried to wipe anything from his trousers, with no avail. It would take weeks to get some of these stans out by hand. Perhaps he could just miracle them away once he was home safe in his bookshop.

But hours passed, and Aziraphale could feel unconsciousness sweeping over him again with his boredom. Underneath that boredom was panic. Crowley would usually be there by now with some witty quip about him getting into trouble again.

Maybe he should find out where he is first. That would definitely help matters. Then he could start his own escape plan. Standing to his feet, he looked around the small room he was locked in. It’s colder than many dungeons he had been stuck in. Really, who even has a dungeon anymore? Aziraphale may be old fashioned, but dungeons were definitely more nineteenth-century than twenty-first.

He found the door and gently pressed an ear against it. The door was cold, metal, and very damp. Luckily, he could hear footsteps passing by.

“Hello?” His voice cracked as he spoke. “Is somebody there? Could you please tell me where I am?”

The footsteps stopped and the Angel backed away from the door, nervously playing with the restraints around his wrists, keeping his arms firm behind his back. He waited for a moment for a small door at the top to slide open.

“I’m really quite sorry to stop what I’m sure is a quiet guard shift, but I would really like to know where exactly I am.”

“You mean, you don’t recognize this place?” A voice asked. Aziraphale recognized that voice. It was the voice that met him in his garden before he went unconscious.

“Hastur…” He said, falling back against the back wall. The demon chuckled, black eyes visible through the small opening in the door, glaring daggers directly at the Angel.

“Principality Aziraphale. Guardian of the Eastern Gate.” He began speaking again. “Do you know where you are?”

“I don- “

“You do…” He cut Aziraphale off. “You were here just last year. Making a fool of yourself and trying to mock the rest of us…”

Aziraphale gasped, falling even more against the wall now as he lost his footing and slid back to the ground. He started to shake, recognizing the cold, smelling the Sulphur in the air. His Angelic senses, fading as they were, could feel the suffering and pain all over again. It was overwhelming. It was too much. Even in this depleted state, he knew.

This is Hell.

“Where’s Crowley?” He croaked out, looking up to where Hastur was watching him.

“I was hoping you might be able to tell us that.”

“I haven’t seen him since before you kidnapped me. Which is quite rude by the way? I didn’t do anything to you.”

Hastur just growled and the window slammed shut. Aziraphale could hear him walking away, waiting until the footsteps were gone before he curled in on himself.

Something in his gut told him that no one from Heaven would try to come to save him. He was going to have to fight his way out on his own. How he wished that Crowley were here to at least provide some sort of assistance.

Down here, his senses were even more numb then they were on Earth. He couldn’t feel anything outside of the pain and misery of Hell’s residents.

He couldn’t feel Crowley anywhere.

For the first time in over six thousand years, Aziraphale felt truly lost and alone.

-

** Twenty-Three years later… **

**Azier shoved his hands** deeper into his pockets as he walked the halls of Hell’s cramped interior. He hates having to walk in the opposite direction of traffic. He hates having to come down here and check-in like this. Crowley never had to actually come down here and check-in this often. The serpent only ever had to send in little memos or send a little letter telling them how wonderful he was doing on Earth. Not wonderful. Terrible.

But the idea was there.

He arrived at the door he was looking for and walked in. Manners don’t exist in Hell. When you deliver paperwork, you walk in, throw it down and wait for further instruction. Which he did perfectly fine.

“My report, Dagon.” He muttered, crossing his arms while he waited for his supervisor to review his works.

Dagon reached up and opened it up, Azier’s reports were always so neat and organized. Nothing like the others that she had to review over the last few millennia. She blamed it on how recently he was to join their ranks, but really it was refreshing to not have to clean up a bad report every time he walked through those doors.

“I see that you’re enjoying your new assignment, hm?” She asked, turning to file it away but still speaking to the white-dressed demon. “Doesn’t it feel nice to get up there and spread some torment after being locked down here for so long. Finally, able to get out and… Raise Hell?”

“If I’m being perfectly honest,” Azier began. “It feels great to just get my feet on Earth again…”

“And as for your hunts?”

“I’ve never felt more satisfied.”

-

**It was months**, maybe even years, before Aziraphale had another visitor. They kept him isolated in that small cell for months, with no communication and would only open the window to check on him.

The Angel was miserable. His wings, usually ungroomed, were now covered in a layer of filth. His clothing had been reduced to shreds. Usually tamed white curls were matted against his head. Without the ability to properly perform a miracle, the Angel felt good as dead.

When he heard the door open, he was slumped in the corner, eyes fixed on a leak that was on the opposite wall to him. He didn’t even look to see who or what it was. For all he cared, this could be his executioner.

He had lost hope. Faith. And all ability to give a damn.

“Aziraphale.” A new voice was speaking to him. Not that he didn’t recognize it. He heard it a few times before, but didn’t bother to turn his head to even address the Prince of Hell.

“Beelzebub…” He muttered. “Finally put some time aside for me. Actually, if I recall, the lyric is ‘has a devil put aside for me.’”

“Don’t play coy with me, Angel.”

Aziraphale chuckled and let his head fall to the side to properly get a look at the Demon.

“Coy.” The Angel sang, letting his head fall back once more. “Oh, to be able to play coy. Has anyone heard from Crowley? Let him know I’m getting quite tired of playing prisoner. A little peckish as well. I could really go for a lunch at the Ritz right about now.”

Beelzebub shared a glance with Hastur who stood at zir side before looking back at the Angel on the ground. He had gone mad in his short stay here. Lost much of himself by this point from being locked in one of Hell’s cells for so long. He was breaking down, turning into something completely different.

Even under his loose exterior and fading sanity, there was still a slight shred of hope that filled the air. The Demons on the other side of the wall almost looked scared of what an unstable being like him would do could do if they unchained him.

Principalities were rather terrifying when they were in their true forms. Aziraphale looked too weak to use this form now, but the terror still had many Demons shaking in their boots.

“He’s not coming to rescue you,” Beelzebub spoke, looking down at him once more.

“You’re kidding. He always saves me. It’s part of our little Arrangement.”

“There is no Arrangement.”

“Certainly, there is. I give it another few weeks before he - “

“Crowley was destroyed, Aziraphale.”

It was like all of Hell fell silent at an announcement that no one expected. Demons and Angel alike all sat there in the shared horror of the revelation.

“I… I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale choked out, sitting up straight to look at the Prince of Hell.

“Beg all you want, Aziraphale.” Beelzebub stepped closer, standing over him now. “Heaven's forces destroyed the Demon Crowley. The reports came in this morning. His demonic essence has fully diminished from the Earth’s surface…”

“Perhaps he ran aw- “

“If he ran away, we would have found him by now. He’s not very subtle about his location.”

An ache flooded into Aziraphale’s chest as his eyes locked onto Beelzebub’s blank stare at his crumbling form. Here in the dungeons of Hell, surrounded by some of the highest-ranking Demons, a deep throbbing ache formed about where his heart rests. Tears stung his eyes as they began to roll down his cheeks.

“We heard… That a few Angels found him.” Ze spoke again, not even disturbed by the Angel’s reaction on the ground. “They captured him, interrogated him, and then destroyed him when he didn’t provide the information they wanted.”

“Doused him in Holy Water, I heard,” Hastur spoke now, stepping further into the room. “Surprisingly enough, it worked this time.”

Aziraphale wanted to scream, but it came out in nothing but a broken sob. His own people killed his best friend. His lover. The only one he could fully confide in was no longer in this realm.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Beelzebub was bent down at his level. Ze reached up and grabbed Aziraphale’s hair in zer hand, holding him at eye level. “Doesn’t it make you miserable? Betrayed by Heaven? They haven’t even sent anyone to come retrieve you. Certainly, they have noticed your absence by now. It’s almost as if we saved them the trouble by bringing you here ourselves.”

Aziraphale felt the tears slide down his cheeks, unable to catch his breath, the pain in his chest was too much now.

“You’re hurting. Heaven has given up on you. Do you feel that fire inside of you? That strong well of absolute power, just ready to come out.” Beelzebub was speaking again, but Aziraphale could barely hear now. “Give in, Aziraphale. You’re already Falling. The only thing holding you up is your Faith. Let go of Grace. Come all the way down here, join us.”

“Why should I?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“Because we can help you get revenge on the ones who took your love from you.”

-

**Azier stuck to hiding** in a small flat in London for now. It was settled just on the edge of the city, away from immediate traffic and high populations of people. After his encounters with the Angel Raphael, he decided going back to his roots would be a little more fun for him. One thing he really wanted to do was figure out a way to get into his old bookshop. For that, he’d need to destroy the blessing his former self had put on the property.

Unfortunately, he had no way of doing that once he became a Demon. Perhaps he could convince Raphael to do it. He seemed pretty keen on the idea of them working together.

After arriving back at the small flat, he lounged on the couch by the window, his attention drawn to the television in the corner of the room.

He sighed and laid his head back as he listened to the news reporter just repeat the same news, they had said the day before. Earth had grown boring to Azier. Sure, he was always happy to be back. He hated being cramped into Hell and stuck with nowhere to get out and explore.

He had only been back for a few years, but the last time he was existing on this planet he had someone to talk to. Someone who understood what he was doing. An Arrangement. An enemy to confront and argue with. Dare he even say he had a best friend for the longest time… and in those final months… something more and beautiful.

Their time existing in one place was too short. Nights like these, Azier tried not to think of Crowley too much. What would Crowley think of him now?

He’d gone from an Angel, to a killer.

Before he could cry, he closed his eyes, bowing his head. Something about this made him feel normal again. It wasn’t a prayer. But a plead. Some sort of desperate attempt to contact someone who was no longer in existence. It never hurt him to try.

“My dear.” He would always begin. “I do hope you’re doing well. For supernatural beings, I don’t know if there would be any sort of afterlife. We never discussed that idea, did we? One day I’ll find the Angel that took you from me. I’ll burn their entire form to ash.”

Something warm rushed over the Demon, pulling him from his state and making him turn his attention to the window. He looked carefully down either side of the street. His eyes narrowed when he saw a familiar head of red hair, pulled into a low curly ponytail that rested on the shoulders of a gray suit jacket.

Raphael.

“There’s a new Angel here, my darling. My replacement, I suppose.” He spoke again, into the emptiness of his house. “They made him look like you. Probably to punish me. To taunt me, perhaps. Gabriel seems like the type of bloke to pull that cruel joke.”

He moved and closed the blinds, making the room fall dark, save for the television screen flashing behind him.

“I do miss you, darling. Earth hasn’t felt the same since I returned. What I wouldn’t give to feel your warm Demonic presence around me just one more time…”

Little did the Demon know, across the street as Raphael continued his walk to gather supplies for the bookshop, the Angel could feel something tugging at him. Words are spoken from an unknown source.

A prayer. A message.

Something vague, that filled the Angel with hope once more.

-

**Aziraphale stared the Prince of Hell** in the face when ze made the offer. His blue eyes closed as he tried to hold on to what shred of Heaven was left in his form. He couldn’t let go. He wouldn’t Fall this easily. These were Demons he was speaking to. Demons lie. They lie all of the time. The only Demon that ever didn’t lie to him was Crowley…

Well, maybe not ever. But he could still trust that one Demon.

The one Demon who wasn’t in existence anymore. The one that Heaven killed.

Angels killed him.

Beelzebub stood up, pulling Aziraphale to his knees in front of zem. The Angel looked up, the chains pulling his wrists behind him now.

“I know you’re afraid.” The Prince stated calmly. “I can feel your fear. Your anger. Replace your love with hate. Let it consume you. Let it grab you and drag you down. Your body is here. Let your soul rest here as well.”

Aziraphale resisted, still holding on to the tiniest sliver of his Grace.

“Heaven rejected you. Rejected you and left you to rot down here with the rest of us. _Give in._”

The chains around Aziraphale grew tighter as he fell forward, letting out a heavy sob as tears poured from his eyes. He could feel fire licking at his feet, burning up his legs and over his back. He smelled the Sulphur in the air, he could hear the screams of tormented souls all sound him.

But there was no heat in this air. There was no fire. All of this was inside of him, churning deep within every part of his being. It felt like a knife. Working its way in through his back, moving deeper to the thin thread that held him to Heaven, the last sliver of grace that his form had.

From his back, white wings erupted, filling most of the space in the cell they had been keeping him in. His body began to shake, breath growing shaky with each breath he took, trying to clear the stench from his senses. He felt a snap. Not a snap. Something breaking, shattering within him. The last wire that held him to Heaven had been cut, but the blade remained, twisting inside of him, filling him with pain and dread. 

The Angel’s form crumpled to the ground, white feathers covering the beige clothed form on the ground of the cell, falling still. The room was quiet and motionless until Hastur spoke

“What happened?”

“Give it a moment…”

Real flames licked up around the tips of Aziraphale’s largest feathers, singing them a deep black color and quickly spreading over the rest of the plumage. Beelzebub turned away for this part. Even Ze couldn’t bear to watch this happen.

The fire spread over all of Aziraphale’s fallen form, filling the room with black smoke and removing him from their view. With a haunting screech coming from the flames, the room began to violently shake, knocking Demons outside of the door down to the floor.

The last Angel to fall, had simply still been in Heaven when it happened. Their Ethereal form was ejected, sending them towards the pit while surrounded by flames. Anyone watching from Earth would call it a meteor passing too close by the planet.

Watching it happen while the Angel was forced to stay in one place. All he could hold onto was the ground.

The flames began to diminish, fading away and leaving the remains of a newly Fallen Angel. Stripped of his faith, and everything that kept him tethered to Heaven. The room shook again, thunder resounding down the hall as for Hell fell silent for the first time since Aziraphale’s captivity began.

Beelzebub looked rather pleased with this result, though zer expression did not change much. The new Demon had not begun to move yet.

Laying there on the ground, where pure white wings once made an attempt to shield a lost Angel, was a body, shrouded in wings that were no longer brilliant and white in color, instead, the tips were nearly black, fading into soft grays as they continued up. They were spotted in areas, in brilliant patterns that almost seemed fitting for the being they belonged to.

The Demons waited.

“The Principality Aziraphale has Fallen,” Beelzebub began, something short of a ghostly cheer echoed through the halls. “Rise, Azier. Demon of the Hunt.”

Hearing his name, the wings unfolded, revealing the Demon underneath. Clothed in white, he stood to his feet, eyes falling on Beelzebub as the chains fell, clattering to the floor. His eyes were cold, emotionless, and void of the brilliant blue color they once had.

“Your destiny awaits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this early because it's Halloween! Also! This chapter is a bit of a mess (Like ALL of them)  
However! This is the last chapter that will involve flashbacks/retellings.  
Starting in Chapter 6, there will be a linear story with flashbacks scattered throughout!  
I'm going to go to Bi-weekly updates now. Due to School picking up the pace and approaching Holidays.  
So!  
Leave a comment and kudos!  
See you on November 15!


	6. 6 - Let me Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Pre-written material. And Since the end of my semester is coming up. The next Update is coming in an unknown timeframe. I have an idea for the next Chapter but it will take a while for me to get it finished.  
Anyway! This chapter is also called, "how many Doctor Who jokes can I add to my Reverse Omens fanfiction?"

** Eight Months Later (Twenty-five years, eleven months, and one week after Armageddon Part 1) **

**Raphael should really be adjusted** to being slammed against walls in dark alleys by now. Really, it’s becoming way too common for him to not expect it whenever he could feel Azier’s presence grow near. It’s something he’s almost grown to look forward to in the past few months, giving him another chance to talk to the Demon again, to search for more signs that this fallen friend could be redeemed. Or at least reasoned with. This time, he just stared down at the demon with a hint of disinterest in his face.

Maybe if he looked bored then he wouldn’t kill him this time. It worked once before.

“Stop. Following. Me.” Azier huffed out, leaning up to get right in the Angel’s face.

“My foul friend, I believe you were the one who found me this time.” Raphael said, gripping the Demon’s wrist in his hands to pull him off his jacket. It was fairly new after all, the last one had been ruined in a fight with this same Demon.

Azier growled and dropped his hands to his sides before just crossing them over his chest. He almost looked like a pouting child, which amused Raphael a little. Aziraphale always had the cutest pout, even as a Demon he looked precious. His face was thinner than he remembered. He hadn’t been eating…

“Not my point. Why are you still in London?” Azier asked with an annoyed huff. He had hoped he could inconvenience the Angel enough he would just leave.

“I told you. I’m working here.” Raphael sighed, looking out into the street. “I came back here to look for the Hellbeast that was in London.”

“Did you find it?”

“I found you.”

“I told you. I am no beast.”

“But you have been killing Angels…” Raphael, tilted his head, watching the Demon fidget where he stood. Busted. “Aziraphale, what happened to you?”

Azier moved in one quick motion, dagger pressing against Raphael’s throat, shoving him into the cold damp stone again. There wasn’t enough pressure to draw blood, not yet.

“Stop saying that name.”

“Angel - “

“Stop calling me that. Stop chasing me. Leave me alone.”

Azier’s words had no bite to them anymore. He looked tired. Like he wanted this to be over so he could run away and hide again until the Angel found him again. Maybe Raphael had a chance to get through to him. He had to take this chance.

“You were an Angel once - “

“I SAID STOP.”

Cold metal pressed into his abdomen now. Great. Another body lost and another jacket ruined.

“Aren’t you tired of this game? This will be the ninth body I’ve discorporated.” Azier said, shaking in what could only be described as a demonic rage. His eyes began to glow a faint golden color as he stared up at Raphael. “You have to be tired of me by now. I’m a Demon, after all. Angels should hate demons. We’re- “

“Hereditary enemies?”

Azier only pushed the knife deeper into him, watching the blood pool down his arm and onto the sidewalk before. Raphael gasped at the pain and grabbed the arm pushing into him.

“We’ve done this dance before, Azier.” Raphael gasped out, trying to pull the knife from his body so he could miracle himself healed and spare himself the trouble of having to converse with Gabriel again about how he faced the Angel Killer and lived. He needed to avoid the questions until he got Azier back to his senses again. “You can resist me all you want. But you know it’ll always come back to us against them.”

“Shut up.”

“It will always be you and me.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s always been us on our si- “

“ENOUGH.”

The dagger ripped up through the skin of his chest, tearing and soaking the material red. With a yell, Raphael crumpled to the ground in front of Azier, trying to hold the wound with no avail. He looked up at the Demon with pleading eyes.

“It’s me… You have to believe me. I’m not dead, Aziraphale.”

Another swipe of the blade left an open cut on the Angel’s cheek and sent him back further into the alley, he tried to slide back, to buy some time. It could be months before he had another chance like this. To get the Demon vulnerable, to try and draw out whatever was left of Aziraphale in that hollow shell. Whatever Hell had done, he could undo.

He is an Angel after all.

An Angel helped him come into his own, he could definitely do the same for this Demon.

“Please listen to me.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Azier said, wiping the blood on his white pants before standing over the pleading Angel. “We’ve done this nine times. You’re causing me nothing but trouble. Do you have any idea how much paperwork I have to do every time I kill you?”

“You can kill me as many times as you like. I’ll keep coming back. I won’t give up on you.”

By the time Raphael was up on his knees again, a foot connected with his chest, pushing him back onto the ground again. He was barely able to catch himself before his head hit the ground. Something had to be getting through to him. Something had to change soon. He couldn’t keep this up for long. It really hurt…

Finally, he looked up, locking his eyes with the eyes of the Demon that were wide by now. This time, however, two white wings, stained in places with black markings blocked most of the light coming from the street behind him, creating a ghastly silhouette.

Raphael felt his breath catch in his throat.

They even ruined those pure white wings that had caught his attention all those centuries ago. He had to act now. Get one more thing through the Demon’s head before he left this body.

“Do it.” He said, pulling himself to his feet, holding the wound on his stomach that pooled blood beneath his hand. “Discorporate me right here. Destroy me if you must. Because if you don’t take out my Ethereal form right now. I’ll come back a tenth time. I will find you. I won’t rest until you believe me, Azier.”

“I’ll eliminate you, Raphael,” Azier said, staring as the body slowly killed itself. He had done enough damage this time that he wouldn’t have to do any more work. “And the rest of Heaven will pay for what they did to Crowley.”

Raphael started to speak again, but lost his words to coughing violently, falling to his knees on the cold ground. He watched as the shadow of Azier move closer to him, looking up one last time, using the last breath this body could hold he whispered.

“I forgive you…”

Azier watched as the Angel destroyed the body, fading into thousands of small ethereal pieces, taking all of the blood from the alley with it. The blood stayed on his clothing though, staining several parts of his sleeves and pants. He looked up at the sky as the rain started to fall down, soaking him instantly and chilling him to his core.

The Demon stood there for a moment, folding his wings back into the thinnest frame of existence before letting out a heavy sigh. He re-sheathed his dagger before letting his hands rest in his pockets.

“This Angel is a stubborn one, dear.” He began to say softly. “Forgive me… But I almost enjoy this game I have with him. It reminds me of our early years…” He looked down at his clothing and gave a heavy sigh. “There’s much more blood this time…”

-

**“This is getting out of hand, Raphael.” **Michael said standing over the crumpled Ethereal form of the Angel on the ground of the transportation room.

“’ S just a lower Demon sent to guard the Hellbeast. They know I’m there now.” He explained, straightening his clothes as he stood to his feet. “It’s definitely new, but I can handle a Demon. I know how they think.”

Michael sighed and stepped closer to him, looking over his face closely. She frowned.

“You better not be hiding anything from us.”

“Why in Heaven would I lie to you? I know what would happen to me if I did. It’s not worth risking all of this that I have gained again.” _It is._ “I’m tired of begging you all to let me have this chance.”

Raphael stood up straighter, looking more confident than he did when this mission initially started. He had to get back to Earth. It was getting easier to break that tough shell Azier had built to protect himself.

“You trusted me once before, Michael. I shaped stars, created masterpieces in the sky for the humans to enjoy, I sang her praises once before. I’ve learned my lesson. I want to be amongst you all again, but I want us to win the war so I can be there for eternity.”

He almost felt bad for lying straight to the face of the Archangels constantly. What he wanted most in the universe was to see Aziraphale again. His Aziraphale. Not that hollow shell that Hell had produced. Michael sighed and gave her blessing for him to return.

“This is the tenth body we’ve given you in almost seven years, Raphael.”

“I’ve always been rather partial to the number ten…”

He had been. Just look at how many letters were in Aziraphale.

-

**Azier was almost home** when he felt a familiar presence approach him on the street. This one wasn’t Angelic, though. He audibly groaned and turned around with a bored expression.

“Hastur. You look terrible, dear. How are you?”

“Spare the pleasantries, Azier. I have news and orders from below.”

“By all means, please do share. I love following orders.”

“We’ve looked into the Angel you’ve been writing into your reports. The ginger one.”

“Yes, Raphael. The thorn in my side and the stain on my coat.” He holds out his arms where the remains of their most recent meeting remained. He was lucky that Angel blood didn’t cause the same reaction as holy water. “What about him?”

“Well. We know where he’s been staying, for one.” Hastur shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his long coat. “But we also figured out he was the head of Crowley’s execution…”

Azier’s face fell from amused about the subject of his new play-thing, to something dark.

“Oh?”

“Seems as if God’s healer was the one chosen for the destruction of his own fallen brother.”

“Sounds like Heaven.” Azier sighed. “Giving the dirty work to someone that could brush it off so easily. Why would they send him down to Earth?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hastur asked, motioning to the Demon before him. “They obviously want him to finish the job. They know who you were, Azier. He’s killed one traitor. Might as well kill the other one.”

“Where is he staying?”

“In your old shop… Under Aziraphale’s blessing. Using it as a safety blanket, no doubt.”

Azier radiated pure rage for a split moment, hearing his Angelic name form the Demon’s lips, Hastur gave a menacing chuckle at the display.

“I’ll kill him. I’ll cut him to bits and leave that entire building to burn.”

“That’s what I want to hear. Get him before he can get you.” Came a whisper as the Demon disappeared into the darkness of the night, leaving Azier alone on the street corner.

He looked up at the building that held his flat and went inside with more questions than he had ever known in the entirety of his existence. Mostly because now that he wasn’t an Angel anymore. He let himself have questions. He let himself ask them out loud, regardless of who could hear him. It’s not like you can fall twice.

But the biggest one on his mind was this: If Raphael was sent to kill Aziraphale, and Raphael knows he was Aziraphale, why hadn’t the Angel made an actual move to kill him?

He had plenty of opportunities to kill the Demon, they had encountered each other numerous times in the last few months alone. Even in the last couple of days, he had run into the Angel several times, not all of them ending in blood, once even a pleasant conversation in passing.

But never, except the first meeting, did Raphael express any true hostility towards him.

Also, if Raphael was after the remains of Aziraphale, why would he stay in his old bookshop under his Blessing. The bookshop was full of items that belonged to the Demon the Angel has supposedly executed. It was full of Crowley’s things. The entire building was protected by Aziraphale’s grace.

Azier couldn’t even walk in there. Not with the Blessing that covered the place. The only Demon allowed in there was Crowley. Hence all of his things being there, hence the strong Demonic aura that a Blessed building produces.

Any Angel could make any building a safe place if they needed to. It wasn’t that hard.

Any Angel would stay away from a place with any sort of demonic energy around it.

So why would Raphael go into Aziraphale’s bookshop?

To lure him there? To investigate?

Raphael has come face-to-face with the very being he was looking for several times, and only once has every seemed truly hostile towards him. Other times he would just try to talk to him. Try and make him remember who he is. He’d constantly mention Crowley, only called him Aziraphale.

Why would the Angel do that?

_“You have to believe me. I’m not dead, Aziraphale.”_

The Angel’s voice rang through his head, making him shudder. Raphael was using Crowley’s death to work his way in. He didn’t want to just kill him. He wanted to make the Demon suffer before he killed him. Raphael wanted to work his way under his skin and kill him from the inside first. Break him down into the smallest pieces and then cover him in holy water until nothing remained.

He fell to his knees in the doorway of his flat, holding his head in his hands. He felt an ache deep in his chest. One he hadn’t felt since he first heard the news of Crowley’s destruction. The feeling of his heart breaking. That was if he actually had a heart, but the shattering feeling still existed deep within him.

To think, he almost wanted to befriend the Angel.

Manipulative beings. Dangerous. Resentful of even their own kind. Dismissive and cruel.

Not that Demons were much better. Even the benefits were terrible.

But it all meant he no longer had to worry about Gabriel on his back, or any other Archangel cornering and threatening him within an inch of his existence.

Again, he began to pray, words coming through choking sobs.

“What shall I do, my love?” He asked, holding his chest. “I’ve been alone for so long. I’ve killed in your honor. I’ve destroyed countless Angels, and I still feel this ache within me… Raphael came to Earth to kill me… Like he killed you.” His head fell back, looking to the sky as if he was pleading something, anything to come and take this pain from him.

One of the things he learned early in his time as a Demon. There is no way to take the pain away. The thought of revenge, the ache in your chest, the feeling of being burned alive, it’s all there to make sure you keep going. It’s the same as how Angels are beings of love and light.

Had Crowley felt this before? Had he just been used to it? Or did he simply ignore it?

No one ever tells you how to properly be evil. They never show you the right path to the dark ways. You’re simply left to your own path, and choose what you feel is the worst you can be.

From minor inconvenience to temptation, to straight out sinful influence.

In Azier’s case, evil deeds are his vengeance, shown through wrath and envy.

Stripped of his Grace after so long of fighting.

The pain eventually subsided, leaving him numb and uncaring again, sitting on the floor of his Earth flat. He stood up and fell onto the plush couch by the window, staring at the people outside as they passed by.

“No rest for the wicked…” He muttered, letting his eyes close after a few moments, falling into a deep slumber.

-

**Raphael arrived** back to the bookshop in record time, straightening his suit and fixing the stack of books he knocked over upon re-entry to Earth. He picked up one of them from the ground and looked over it. He recognized it as one of Aziraphale’s best finds. Remembering how excited the Angel had been to have gotten this first edition in such nice condition so long after it had been published.

Aziraphale had spent three Earth days restoring the book by hand. He never understood how the Angel could have gotten too attached to these books. They were just human writings. He had insisted on doing the restoration by hand instead of using a miracle to fix them.

He always had funny things he preferred to do the human way. It was endearing.

Raphael smiled and put the book back where it belonged on the desk, watching as a piece of paper fell down from inside one of the other books he had picked up.

Curiously, he began to read, recognizing Aziraphale’s handwriting once again covering the page. Another page of his letter…

_‘By now, my I feel that my affections are more than clear to you. We’ve faced every disaster and war that this planet has faced, and we went through it together. I could never repay you for any and all of the kindness you have shown me in all of those experiences. Yes, I mean kindness. You are kind, Crowley. You don’t want me to say it, you hate it when I do, but I can see it in you._

_Whatever caused you to Fall, you didn’t lose everything that made you an Angel. That is more than obvious in all of your actions. I recall you once told me you only ‘vaguely sauntered downwards’ and I believe it. My dearest Demon, you are everything to this world that I wish I could be. _

_Angels are only here to follow orders and do what we are told. So many times, have I looked at you and realized how dangerous you are for me. How dangerous it is for you to be around me, as well. You’re sleeping soundly now, and I cannot bring myself to do the same. I am afraid of what might come in the night. I am afraid of waking up and you not being beside me. I am afraid of losing the one good thing I have ever truly loved in this world._

_I love you, Crowley. Despite our thousands of years of knowing each other, we have only made this fact known. It hasn’t been long ago now, really. It’s amusing to think about, considering how long I’ve loved you, and the same could be said for you as well. (So you say.)_

_I love you, and everything about you, everything I love all comes back to you. Have you ever thought about that? I have…’_

The page ends there. Another page of a letter never meant to be read. Another full page of Aziraphale’s thoughts written down in the simplest of forms. Something else he always preferred to do the hard way.

That too, was robbed from the Angel.

It was taken from him the moment the Angel was taken from his place of rest. The place that quickly became his home on Earth. Inside here was everything the Angel ever loved, ever treasured, ever cared about. So much so, that he had put his own Grace over the building to protect it, contents included.

Including him.

Suddenly, Raphael’s eyes lit up.

He was standing in the office of Aziraphale’s most prized possession, surrounded by his belongings. All he needed to do was lure Azier into the bookshop.

That would help his memory, being surrounded by his own love and everything he had collected over six thousand years would definitely help bring some sort of sense back to him.

It was the best idea that he had come up within the last few years. Like many of his ideas, it was crazy enough that it might actually work.

**Author's Note:**

> Another Reverse Omens AU? Noooo  
Anyway.  
This was hugely inspired by the Revenge Omens AU by @Masao.Sketch on Instagram and I asked for permission to borrow some of their ideas. Please look them up you won't regret it.  
Also, this is an experiment to see if I will ever actually finish a fanfiction...  
Feedback is appreciated!!!!


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